When The Lights Fade Out
by LoveAlwaysKaity
Summary: She didn't know that in that moment he had realized that she was looking for paradise and he couldn't offer that anymore.


**A/N**: This was honestly inspired but a 1x1 that I'm pretty certain is not going to ever be revived. It's Zombies!Sebtana. Well…they're not zombies but it's the zombie apocalypse. It's basically all the plot ideas I had roaming in my head all mashed together in a oneshot. I am also not linking the 1x1 because I also changed the one event that was actually para'd. It's terribly angsty and please note that this story does not have a happy ending. Oh and penny for your thoughts? I'd love to know what you guys think.

* * *

WHEN THE LIGHTS FADE OUT  
SEBTANA

* * *

_Just a little bit closer_, her mind screamed at her.

Her legs pumped furiously even though her muscles were aching with exhaustion. Her lungs burned as the breath ran thin within them. She might as well have been a string, so worn out that she would snap in half at any second.

_Just a little bit closer_. Her mind egged her on, the exit of the camp out directly in front of her line of sight.

Gunshots sounded. Arrows shot past her. The alarm wailed in the distance. People were yelling out commands. Even dogs were barking. It was splitting her ears to say the least. She had something to focus on however, and that was the sound of Puck's voice telling her to keep going. The sound of his heavy footsteps lingered behind her and she swore she could hear him take shot with the bow and arrow he had acquired years ago.

_Just a little bit closer_. It only had to be at least seven feet from her now. Seven more feet and they would be _free_. She could practically taste it if she was being honest. Her heart screamed in her chest while the rest of her body pumped with adrenaline. They would be living legends. Stealing from the militia was something that never happened and in less than seven more feet, they'd be the only ones who'd done such thing.

_Just a little bit closer_, she yelled mentally at herself in utter joy.

Then she heard the cry of agony from the only voice she had heard in years.

Skidding to a stop she turned around to see what could be classified as her worst fear.

The thud of his body hitting the ground was louder than anything that had been blaring in her ears before. She dropped the backpack of supplies that she had been stealing and ran towards him. Her lips were curled into a scream yelling out the name that he had made for himself after his father died.

Quickly she shuffled towards him to find an arrow plunged into his chest. Blood oozed out of the wound and his mouth as well, his skin already losing its color. Her hands were hooked underneath his shoulders and she tilted him to the side.

"I can take it out." She cried. The tears felt foreign to her as they slid rapidly down her cheeks. "You're gonna be okay." Her head nodded and the only thing she looked at was his hazel eyes.

"S-s…" Puck tried to speak but he was failing. "G-go."

"No," She shook her head furiously in a protest. She wouldn't leave him. "I'm not leaving you." The blood that was oozing from his back seeped through the worn out fabric of her jeans. Her fingers were covered in the sticky ichor but she didn't care.

"L-leave." He wheezed.

She sighed heavily leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "I'm right here with you and I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you." Her lips quivered and she wondered if she could pick him up and get him out of here. The shake of his head answered her question. He could tell what she was thinking; he was always able to do that.

"I won't leave you." She repeated like she was a broken record. She didn't know what else to say.

"St-stay alive, S-san." His words were barely even audible and the beat of his heart underneath her fingertips was growing faint.

"Please don't leave me. I can get you out of here." She cried as she leaned her forehead down to connect with his. Her raven hair served as a canopy keeping them in their own little world for just a moment. He coughed on the blood in his mouth his chest bouncing with the action. She placed another kiss on his forehead because it was the only thing she could do.

His hand reached up to her and touched her face, his thumb deciding to trace the apple of her cheek. "S-survi-vive."

His shirt was now soaked with his blood and the color of his skin was drained. He was the only person she had left. She had lost her abuela, her parents, Brittany, Quinn, and Sam. Everyone that she had ever loved had slipped through her fingertips since the outbreak. Puck was the only one that she had left and now he was sand in her fingertips. Time was running out.

"You're going to be okay, Noah." She whispered his real name, thinking that he deserved to hear what he was actually called before he left this Earth. The sight of his lips quirking up into a smile made her heart ache. She would never get to see him smile again. She would never get to hear him yell out the words "fuck yeah", after killing a "shitload of zombies", as he put it. She would never get to see him smirk at her after he joined her in her makeshift showers.

She would never get to hear his voice again. Instead she would hear only silence.

"Be-behind—" He breathed again just as she was yanked out from underneath him. Her hands still managed to grab at his shirt.

"No!" She screamed kicking her legs and moving her arms. "Let me go! Get the fuck off of me!" Her voice cracked through her tears as she violently thrashed her body around in attempt to escape.

The grip on her arms however was deadly and a brave soul clawed at her kicking legs, holding her still. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to control her breath.

"I love you!" She screamed just as the bloody fabric of his shirt slipped out of her grasp. She hoped that he had heard her last words but little did she know that his eyes had already gone still, as well as his heart.

"Let me go!" She growled anger rising within her and she managed to kick the man holding her feet in the abdomen. When he stumbled back and dropped her ankles, she planted her feet on the grown. Her elbows moved back into the jawline of her other captor. She had curled her body up so her other hand was able to grab a knife from her belt. Quickly she sunk it into the flesh of his jugular.

She watched the body crumple to the floor with a sadistic smirk on her face. The volume of the militia's panic hadn't toned down and there was a spotlight right on her. Her knife glistened in her hand as she stood completely still. The man who had been holding her feet advanced on her, swinging his arm. Her head snapped back at the contact and her skin stung from the impact. She didn't fall down though, instead kicked her leg up into his chest before lunging at him. They both fell to the ground and her knife was in his chest.

She would kill everyone here if that's what it took and when she was done she would carry Puck's body out of there and bury him somewhere peaceful.

Unfortunately she was never able to do it because as she stood above the two corpses she had just created, an electrical jolt shot through her body. Before she could fight back her eyes rolled back into her head and everything was black.

* * *

Everything was blurry as a low groan fell from her lips. It was like she needed to fix the focus, like on a camera. There was a faint sting of pain in the back of her head that seemed to grow more prominent as time passed. She attempted to bring her hand to the back of her head to feel the wound but she couldn't. The moment she moved her hand something seemed to scratch against her wrist. Another burning sensation shocked her body as she looked up. Her hands were bound in rust chains above her head. Panic flushed through her and she squirmed only to notice that her feet weren't even on the ground. Her tiptoes could barely feel the dirt.

On instinct she wiggled her wrists around hoping to get free of the chains. She would have screamed but there was duct tape concealing her mouth. Looking up she noticed the contusions on her skin from all the other times she had tried but evidently failed to break free. She couldn't remember waking up any other times. In fact she could barely remember anything that led up to this moment. Her mind racked for the memories of how she got her ass in this situation. Frustration and fear—something she would never admit to even feeling—flushed through her as she squirmed. Muffled whimpers melded into the melody of the chains rattling as she moved.

_Shit_. She thought. _Shit_. _Shit_. _Shit_.

Memories surfaced in her head. The first one was a smirking face of Puck, as they went over the plan to steal the supplies. It was a well thought out plan that they had mapped out for about a month. This was the militia after all.

Her eyes widened when she realized that this was the militia.

The militia had taken her.

This time she swung her body back in forth tears bleeding into her eyes, her wrists scratching with pain. She lifted her legs only to start choking. That was when she saw the velvet colored liquid on her shirt. Something bubbled up in her mouth and she couldn't spit it out.

It was blood.

Looking around she saw her very own belt of knives laid out across the table. The silver of her favorite dagger stained with crimson red. She started to scream, although they sounded like high pitched huff. It was just her in this room. Where had they taken Puck?

And that was when she remembered everything.

They had gotten caught. The alarm had been blaring; lights had been all over them. Arrows flew just past their bodies as they ran and the same for bullets. Although those were quite rare seeing as ammo was lacking these days. But she can't see any of that clearly in her head. All she can see is Puck's still figure with an arrow plunged in his chest.

He was_ dead_ and they had _killed_ him.

The tears that had been filling her eyes finally fell just as someone walked in.

It was the sound of iron bars squeaking as people pushed them back, keys rattling and she knew that she was locked in some sort of cell.

"We've been awaiting you." A voice called. She still thrashed around desperate to escape. Menacing dark brown eyes that could almost be black connected with hers. She was nose to nose with someone she didn't even know. She wiped everything from her eyes, making sure only to portray her anger. They would not see her weak. They would not see her break.

Underneath his ski-mask he was probably smirking as he slowly peeled back the duct tape. She jerked her legs up to kick him in the groin but one of his hands gripped her thigh. "I wouldn't even think about it, dearie." He said, putting his masked lips close to her ear. Then without so much as a word he ripped off the tape and she grunted in pain.

She wouldn't dare shed a tear or scream out in agony. They would not see her weak.

For a moment he just stared at her, keeping their noses together. A shiver ran down her spine as his hand slowly retracted from her thigh. She stayed completely silent, inching their faces closer before she sank her teeth into his cheek. He yelped at the action but he didn't stumble. She craned her neck in attempt to take off his mask but it didn't matter. His hand had dug into her abdomen, the place where she assumed had a nasty stab wound. Instantly her teeth parted and a scream of agony thundered in her throat. She closed her mouth though. _They won't see you weak, Santana_. She mentally told herself. _They won't_.

"I wouldn't advise doing that either." He smirked and this time she knew it because she had yanked up the mask enough to see his lips. The angle of his jaw was sharp and crisp and she wanted nothing more than to slam the heel of her boot into it. Not that she had those on; they had stripped her down to just her jeans and shirt. The dim lighting made the curve of his lips look even more deadly. Another shiver shuddered down her back.

In response she spit the blood that was in her mouth over his face. Then it was her turn to smirk, her lips and teeth the darkest shade of crimson.

* * *

They were torturing her with her own knives.

She had seen the evidence of it the first time she had consciously woke up but it didn't hit her until they had sunk them into her flesh making her bleed for hours. She wasn't cooperating with them in the slightest. For hours on end they asked her questions and she would give no answers. Her main interrogator was the man whose face she had bit the first time she had been consciously aware of what the fuck was going on. It didn't take long for her to figure out that his name was Randall. He was the second in command of this particular base. The leader hadn't had the time to pay her a visit but she had a feeling that his absence would stay constant. No other memories aside from Puck bleeding out in her lap had surfaced in her mind, so the only conclusion that she could come to was that she was drugged.

She writhed in the chains thinking about what they did to her if that's what happened.

They cut her with the same precision she had used to file her nails when life was actually normal. She would never bleed out; they would make sure of that. Instead she would just simply suffer for hours teetering on the brink of consciousness until the darkness took over.

"Tell me where the others are." His voice was low and there was still that unidentifiable accent lacing it. He was completely calm and his fingers traced over the blade of her knife. His finger was barely pressed to it but it still drew blood from its tip. Honestly she had to give them kudos for using her knives, even if she fucking hated them touching her weapons. They were the best of the best and certainly kept in the highest condition. They were deadly just like her.

She stayed silent a defiant look in her eyes that only crumbled when she was alone.

"Tell. Me." He had been circling behind her but now he had come to a halt behind her back. He pressed his chest against her, his arms putting the knife to her throat. She wasn't as scared as she should have been. She wasn't an idiot. She knew that they needed her alive. She was more valuable with a beating heart, even if they had it all wrong, because she didn't know if there was a group of rebellious asses trying to overthrow them. And if she did know she was never the type of person to snitch unless she got something for herself.

Slowly she licked her lips feeling the thick strap of his gun rub against her back. Her breaths were shallow and she grimaced. Her back was an open wound, jagged cuts etched into her skin from the past three times this happened. It was a never ending pattern. They would carve marks into her skin in attempt to make her scream, to make her snitch on people she didn't even know existed, for twenty-four hours. In the end she would always wind up unconscious, feverish with a never-ending agony. Then they would give her seventy-two hours after the time she came back into consciousness for her wounds to heal before coming back in to tear them open. Her long raven hair stuck to every crevasse of her neck the outline of her face and her caramel skin shined with a layer of sweat. Randall had already cut into her nine times today; starting from the skin just underneath the clasp of her bra until they reached the side of her body. Leaning her head back, even if it caused her vision to blur and more blood to ooze from her wound, she shared his sadistic smile.

"Go to hell."

It took all of five seconds for the jagged edge of the knife to bite into her previous wounds. He shredded it down until it reached the first wound they inflicted on her abdomen. He didn't stop there however, not until he reached the tip of her hipbone. That's when he lodged the knife in her skin a couple more inches.

She drew blood biting her lip so she wouldn't scream.

* * *

Days, weeks, maybe months had passed since she had been locked up like some sort of wild animal. Her wrists burn and her arms felt like iron from the constant twisting. All of it was blurring together and she could barely keep her eyes open. The only thing keeping her alive at this point, the only thing willing her on was the desire to escape. It was Puck's fading voice telling her to survive that kept her from just giving into the darkness and not coming back.

She would not let them take both of them.

Her clothes were tattered and covered in her own blood and sweat. It itched against her skin and she would give anything to feel the rain. The idea of water sliding over her skin felt like a long lost dream. Of course they kept her properly nourished, providing her with both food and water, but it wasn't some lavish feast. It was basically cold leftovers from whatever their troops didn't eat. In the beginning she had tried her best to reject it all but they shoved it down her mouth.

They needed her alive and she was constantly reminded of that. It only made her think that they must have been real desperate to keep their power. After all they were the most feared.

Her hair was tangled, sticking to her face but also cascading down her shoulders like a rapid waterfall. To put it simple she was a mess. The creaking of the iron bars was distant in her ears, her plump lips drained of their pink color. Her skin a few shades lighter than its normal bronze.

The figures around her seemed to be colored shadows as her eyes barely fluttered open so she could see her captors. A flash of pristine white caught her eye but she wasn't aware enough to know it was a lab coat. There was a scientist in the room; to be specific a chemist. Her knives still sat on the cold metal table in front of her but they would go untouched today. Her wounds were turning into scabs and she had no doubt they'd be scars soon. At least they still got to heal, even if she wasn't conscious of it.

Today was time for a new tactic.

The words _soldier _and _serum_ echoed in her ears, her body twitching in her chains. Fingernails lodged into the skin of her skull as someone yanked her head back. A groan that might as well have been inaudible sounded from her lips her eyes fluttering open and then shut.

"This will just be a tiny pinch." A timid voice whispered but she swore she could hear a wicked undertone. Everyone in this place was evil. But it was also likely that she was hallucinating. She also swore she could hear a liquid shooting out and slapping the ground. A needle pricked her pulse point and at first she went limp as soon as they let go of her.

Not even five seconds later her eyes snapped open and her body was on fire.

Her blood was _boiling_.

Her head was _screaming_.

Every cell in her body was _engulfed_ in flames.

It felt like she was _burning_ from the inside out.

Randall pulled up a chair, sitting in front of her with the usual sadistic smirk on his face. His eyes were delighted seeing her in pain. Struggling in her chains, they rattled as Santana whimpered. The man in front of her laughed wholeheartedly, taking pleasure in watching her squirm. Her lips were glued shut as her screams bundled together in her throat.

The angular jaw that she was so used to seeing was in front of her before she could process that Randall had gotten up from his seat. His chewed down fingernails scratched at her cheeks. He looked her in the eye, groping her breasts before running her body down her sides.

"Let's see how long it takes you to break, diablita." Then he pressed to fingers into one of the cuts he had made on her hip bone.

Her lips parted before she could stop and her vocal chords slammed together in an ear-bleeding screech.

It was the first time in which she had much rather been dead than alive.

* * *

_Her heartbeat echoed in her chest as her head violently whipped around. All she could see was darkness and all she could feel was mud, dirt, leaves, and branches rubbing up against her bare feet. She didn't even have the slightest idea as to where she was. She just knew that she needed to run until it was impossible for her to do so. She needed to escape the sound of barking dogs running after her._

"_Puck!?" She screamed out. She was desperate to know where he was but she was only met with the sound of stampeding footsteps trying to find her, trying to capture her. Blindly she took off trying her best to navigate around what she presumed to be the woods. There was no moon in the sky to light some sort of ways. No constellations to somehow guide her "home" not that those existed anymore. She could only imagine how her house looked; probably nothing but blocks of debris falling apart. _

"_Puck!?" She yelled out again this time moving but her head looked behind her. Panic flashed through her but when she turned around she ran right into someone's hard chest. _

"_I know you're loud when I'm inside you but now is time to zip those lips of yours, San." He commented, a suggestive smirk on his lips. Relief flushed through her and she smiled. Grabbing his hand she took off through the trees, shallow breaths exhaling from her mouth. As always she felt safer with Puck by her side and a little less alone. However the dogs were still on their heels. She could hear the jingling of their collars and the way they were sniffing out their scent._

"_We have to find a place to hide." She demanded, sneaking a glance at Puck. _

"_No shit Sherlock," Puck retorted. "I'm glad to see you're still as brilliant as ever." _

"_Fuck off." She pushed him on his shoulder, her ankle snagging in a branch. She stumbled but didn't fall but that one little slip up seemed to bring their enemies closer. Her eyes could make out the figures of the canines sprinting after them. "We've got to climb." Santana told him her lips quivering in worry. _

_Puck wasn't exactly skilled in being graceful or climbing. _

_He yanked on her shoulder and pulled them behind a random tree that was only a few feet from where she had fallen. His calloused hands wrapped around her waist and hoisted her up so she could grab the lowest branch. It took a lot of her energy to pull herself up but she managed to do it in record timing. _

_Which was reliving because if not they were going to be eaten alive. Literally. _

"_You can do this Puck, just take a deep breath. It's just like the bars on the playground from when we were younger." She encouraged, anxiety flashing through her. With every second passing the dogs got closer and so did death's door. _

"_Shut up." He growled, gaining height. _

"_No'." She called out her personal nickname for him. "Stay with me." _

_The next five seconds had been the most grueling five seconds of her life. She swore her heart had pulsed itself out of her chest and her stomach had lurched with nausea. Puck finally grabbed ahold of the branch and was pulling himself up. Knowing that it probably couldn't hold the both of them, Santana began to climb up to the next nearest one. She was just swinging her leg over it when she heard a grunt and the familiar curse from Puck. _

"_Fuck." Looking down she saw him desperately holding on to the branch as a dog, jumped up and was biting his bag of supplies, tugging him downward. The panic spiked in her blood and she tried her best to get back down the branch. _

"_Just hold on." She urged, crouching down on branch, her back against the tree trunk. Her fingers hooked around his wrist when she leaned forward. She looked into his hazel eyes expecting to see fear. She thought that he would be scared but instead he just looked tired and there was some sort of content looking pooling among the green in gold. _

_Her heart stopped and she shook her head furiously. _

"_Don't you fucking dare." She said pulling up on his wrist. Her energy wasn't exactly on full blast either. She was exhausted but she would do anything to get Puck up on this branch; to get him to safety. _

"_San…" He started, looking at her with this lazy smile on his face. "You're still the most beautiful girl I've ever met." Her heart flounced in her chest and tears pooled in her eyes. _

"_Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you." She cursed, still pulling on him. He was the rope in this game of tug of war and Santana Thalia Lopez didn't fucking lose. "Don't let go. I can get you up." _

"_You're safe that's all that matters to me. That's all that has mattered to me for years." He grunted; his fingers that had wrapped around her wrist slipping. His hand that had still been holding the branch had slipped off and hung at his side. The dogs who she hadn't even spared a glance at snarled below them. _

"_Please," Santana begged. "Please don't do this. I can save you. I can and I will." _

_Puck however just shook his head. "You're not gonna win this time, San. You know that." _

_Tugging on him she held her breath but it was useless. He was too heavy, especially since there had to be a whole pack of dogs down there, mouths watering. _

"_Don't do this, I love you." _

"_I love you too." He whispered, pulling himself up to press one kiss to her lips before letting her go. _

"_Noah!" She screamed out, leaning over the branch. A huge thud sounded along with the barks of the raven colored dogs at the ground. "Noah!" Santana screamed again, reaching for a knife to plunge them in the creatures._

_But when she reached there was nothing there. Her hands snaked around her waist but there was suddenly no weapons. "Noah!, no, no…." She cried, her hands covering her mouth as she watched her best friend get torn apart. When the footsteps drew near she hid herself against the tree underneath a canopy of leaves. Tears streamed down her face as her hands trembled. It took a few minutes of chatter from husky voices to deduce that she had escaped. They all withdrew from their spot at the roots of the tree and headed back from wherever they came from. The Latina waited another few minutes before jumping down and back onto the ground. It was on the opposite side of where Puck had fallen. _

_She took only a couple steps before someone yanked on her hair, making her stumble back. A rope was soon pressed around her throat and she struggled, her body convulsing around. _

_Her fingers clawed at the rope that seemed to been as thin as a wire and she choked on her breath trying to create words. _

Suddenly the room changed and she was back in her cell, Randall standing before her. His hand was around her neck tightening slowly. Her eyes were filled to the brim with panic as she kicked her legs, not coming anywhere close to reaching him. Her head turned to look at the room. How did she get here so fast?

Had she really been dreaming when it all felt so _real_?

"Poor Noah," He mocked sadness. "I thought it was only fair to kill him since he killed my one of my very best."

Santana continued to choke on the air that wasn't coming to her lungs and her body kept moving. Sweat seeped over her skin and that burning feeling consumed her.

"It was fun dragging his body to the pit."

Her eyes widened and she finally managed to dig one of her heels into his stomach. He stumbled back but a chuckle tumbled back from her lips.

"You want to know what else is fun, sweetheart?" His brow perked and he stayed away from her. Santana stared him in eye challenging him even though she was in no position to fight.

"Watching you scream and scream and scream and scream." He chuckled, reaching out and tucking her hair behind her ears. "And calling out all the names of the people you lost. Poor Noah. Poor Brittany. Poor Sam. Poor, poor Quinn. Let's not forget your grandmother, the one you killed."

"They're all dead." She snapped, her chest rising and falling in short hot breaths. He shook his head, coming closer before leaning his lips against the shell of her ear. His hand lifted over her shoulder to gesture someone to come in. Santana shivered uncomfortably underneath his touch, when he pressed a kiss behind her hear and then a few down her neck.

"And you're _breaking_." He stepped back as someone yanked her head back the needled once again pinching her skin.

"See you soon." He whispered just as she shrieked, letting everyone in the camp know exactly where she was.

* * *

It was so hard to tell the difference between reality and the hallucinations. In fact she was hardly conscious that she was a prisoner to the militia. Now it was more like she was a prisoner to her own mind.

She's seen everyone she's ever loved die a million different ways and it was all her fault. Every single time it was because she wasn't strong enough, fast enough, or smart enough to keep them alive. They all let her go. They all told her that they just wanted her safe but what about what she wanted? Why wasn't she enough to keep them safe?

She didn't know whose death was harder to endure. They all were the equivalent of someone taking her heart and twisting it idly out of her chest until they were holding it in front of her face. Then as if that wasn't enough they squeezed it tantalizingly slow and let her watch as her breath spun out.

_This time she watched Brittany get tortured extensively in front of her. The sound of her earsplitting screams of agony made Santana do the same. Except it seemed the Latina's weren't even audible to anyone in the room. Blood poured from her porcelain skin and her blonde hair didn't shine like sun. It seemed paler and a little more lifeless with every day passing. Her whole body seemed to take on this fragile state so Santana was always reminded that she was dying. Her hair was also matted with dried blood as she convulsed on the table top, cuts bearing themselves all over her arms and abdomen. There were even dark contusions from where they had electrocuted her. _

_They had been sleeping when they were captured; just the two of them, hidden in an alleyway between two buildings. Santana had woken up to the sound of hooded footsteps and had also waked her sleeping girlfriend. Just like when she reached for her knives when Puck was being mauled to death, there was nothing around her waist. Both, Brittany and her were hit on the head with the hilt of a sword. _

_When she woke up Brittany had been strapped to a table and she was locked in an actual cage. _

_The days were endless and her voice was so raw her screams could hardly be heard anymore. They cracked the moment it thundered off her lips. _

_She watched Brittany die right in front of her from behind electrocuted to death. She had screamed and cursed, begging for them to stop. Not that they could hear her. Her heart broke in her chest as she kicked her legs against the door. She needed to save Brittany. She couldn't let her die. There was just no way. It didn't matter though because just like every other death she had witnessed thus far, including other renditions of Brittany's, she was helpless. _

_Weak. _

_She was _breaking_. _

_She wasn't sure which actually made her cry. The person she was in love with taking her final breath and there was nothing she could do. Or when they tossed Brittany's body of the table and her corpse was slumped in the middle of the room for a few hours until they disposed of her. _

_It was then that she learned about the pit. Something she had always thought had been nothing but a myth. _

_It's also the place where she watched Sam and Quinn die. _

_The scenes switched so fast it made her head spin. Instead of having her body curled up in a cage, she was being pushed through a crowd her hands bound behind her back. Calloused hands also held her forearms, making sure that she was trapped and could do nothing else but follow his direction. Everyone looked ahead with an enthralled look sparkling in her eyes. Santana was just confused, her insides swimming with anguish. This couldn't be good if the militia considered it like a celebration. _

_It crosses her mind that she might actually be on the way to her own execution but when she's being placed in a seat that was right next to what looked like a throne she didn't think it was her. The hands on her forearms let go but she could still feel someone's presence behind her. She looked straight ahead noticing an arena of sorts, two doors at each end of the field. There was nothing but a small oval canvas of dirt with patches of grass presented before them. It was clearly nothing special but everyone was staring at it as if some sort of God was about to fly down in the center of it. _

Pathetic_. She thought to herself. Taking a deep breath she watched the rest of the people file in, noticing that there at least had to be a few hundred people. It was weird being surrounded by so many survivors. _

_But as the next few minutes dragged on she realized what was happening. _

_Someone was going to die. There had been other prisoners along with her and Brittany. Closing her eyes, Santana took a deep breath and begged to nothing in particular to not let it be Sam, Quinn, or Puck. They had split up for the night and although they were all close by it was also far enough to part, to make it look like they weren't one big group. _

_She saw a short figure across the empty side of the arena. He was dressed in the militia look. A black padded jacket with weapons pocketed around his waist. Let's not forget the gun that was a literal empty threat that was strapped around his shoulder. _

"_Gentlemen." He called out, the few whispers that had been buzzing coming to a complete hush. "We are here today to execute enemies found on our land, fifty miles east." _

_Then he solemnly walked away and the guards around Santana raised their bow and arrows. _

_They came here just to see people get show with arrows? Really? _How lame_. _

_Santana slumped in her seat but it didn't last long at all. Not when two familiar blondes were forced out into the fields. She could see them clearly from her spot. Their hands were entertained and tears streamed down both their faces. Both of them bared bruises but no cuts. Quinn huddled against Sam's side and he seemed to be whispering soothing things in her ear. The hand he had wrapped around her was running down her arm. It was how he calmed her down. He also usually kissed her temple and he did just that the moment Santana remembered it. She could only imagine what Trouty Mouth was saying. Probably 'I love you' and 'Everything's going to be alright' even though there was only a bad outcome. _

_Santana started to exit her seat but a hand immediately came down on her shoulder and shoved her back down. His hand also went over her mouth so she couldn't scream. She moved her shoulders that feeling of helplessness coursing through her. Tears threatened in her eyes as she fought. She could hear the gears to a door opening and a familiar crackle and movement. Her insides all froze for a moment and now she realized why there was guards lined up at every inch of the balcony. Why they were positioned with their bows and arrows. _

This was a pit of zombies_. _

_She opened her mouth and bit down on the guy's hand was covering her mouth. The moment he flinched she stood up, spun on her heels and kicked the guy in the face. Her hands were still bound as a guard with a knife for a weapon was coming at her. When he was close enough she kicked her leg up and managed to knock him backwards. He fell to the ground still holding his knife. She shoved her right foot on his stomach and twisted her body so she could grab his knife. Once it was in her hands she swiftly moved the knife to cut herself free. The cloth fell to the ground and she noticed that everyone was still poised to fire at any moment with their arrows. _

_Sam and Quinn were backed into a corner. Adrenaline coursed through her as she pushed a guard over the edge, swiftly grabbing his bow. She plucked an arrow from the man next to her. Pulling it back she released it and it barely went through the zombie's head that was closest to her friends. She had never been good at handling a bow and arrow. Knives had always been her thing but Puck had been teaching her. She was so fucking relieved that he forced her into it too. _

"_I'm going to save you." She yelled, trying her best to shoot all the arrows. The zombies were slow and if she could just kill a few more, maybe she could jump in and get them out. Finally something was going her way. _

_Her arm was pulled back and just about to release her fifth arrow when someone tugged back on her elbow, causing her to lose her balance. Before she could fight back a blade bit through her side and she collapsed to the ground. She screamed in agony and it blended right in with Sam's and Quinn's. _

_Her heart stopped in her chest because the last thing she saw as her vision went out of focus were rotten skeletons relishing in the taste of her family's flesh._

She wakes up with Randall in her face again, blood surging from her wounds from before. She can tell by the smirk on his face that she had been screaming, confirming what she thought every time she was brought out of the hallucinations.

Whatever pain they inflicted on her while she was under the influence she'd feel in the hallucinations. That was also why she always without her knifes, because she didn't have them. They probably cut her too and that's why she was stabbed before she saved Sam and Quinn. She felt something slide down her arm and she knew that it was the familiar red ichor, because she had been struggling to move. To her surprise she can slide a little bit of her hand out of the shackle.

"I'd say I'm sorry but I'm not." He flashes his yellow teeth at her and her lips turn into a scowl. She's still shaken up from watching the people she considered to be her family die and she can't stop picturing the pit. She tried to tell herself that it was just a hallucination but it felt so real. Her mouth went dry as she watched Randall ghost his fingers over her dagger.

"Are you ready to tell us where the others are?" He asked his voice just below a whisper.

"I'll send you to them." Her voice is incredibly hoarse and she could definitely go for a drink of water. It makes her wonder how long she's been under. Her insides are still on fire but she's gotten to the point where she can bear it without screaming. Her chest heaved in deep breaths and she's fortunate that she's not strong enough to smirk.

"Ah, finally. What we've been waiting for."

"Come…" She breathed. "Closer." Of course he did an excited smirk crawling over his face. He put his ear to his lips and made it clear that he was listening.

Opening her mouth, a gust of hot breath left her mouth, and then she clamped her teeth down on his ear, _hard_. He instantly yelped and staggered back. Of course her dagger slid right into her half-healed wounds.

Growling she closed her eyes trying to absorb the agony and bury it. "Tell me about the pit. What did you do with him?" Santana knows that she doesn't have to say his name for her grim keeper to know who she's talking about. She also spits out the flesh that had caught between her teeth when she had bit him.

"I'm sure you've heard the legend." His voice is incredibly deadly as his hand grips his bleeding ear.

That's all she needed to hear to make her blood run cold.

* * *

She can feel the blood trickle from her wrists. A few drops had landed on her lip and she had easily swiped it away with her tongue. Her head was fuzzy and she was sure that soon enough she'd be hanging unconscious from her shackles. They had dragged her butterfly knife making ragged cuts down her back and folding over the side of her hipbone. The warm red liquid seeped through the fabric of her shirt, creating a puddle in the floor. She could slide out the very bottom of her palm out of the cuff but other than that she was stuck. Her head was bowed down because she wasn't strong enough to keep it up right. Her hair curled around her face serving as a canopy. Her arms were so sore from being bound above her head and she would give anything to let them hang by her sides.

She exhaled a slow shallow breath and the ones that followed seemed to be lapsing. She was succumbing into the darkness at a fast but agonizingly slow rate all at the same time.

Why wouldn't it just consume her already?

She's not really aware of the bars opening and a tall lean figure slipping in. Honestly all she can think about is letting herself fall off the edge into an oblivion she's become so familiar with in the past few…however long it's been. She's not even sure. Between the hallucinations and not knowing how long she was out cold…she can only assume it's been a long, long time. She hated waking up too. It was like a train was colliding into her bones.

She's so fucking out of it that when he body crashed to the ground—which was concrete by the way—she doesn't even make a noise of discomfort. Instead her eyes flutter open before falling shut. An arm comes around her and she winces in pain.

"Don't." She breathed her head lulling to the side. "Touch me."

"Do you want help or not?" A voice snapped back sarcastically. Her hands slack when she feels the cuffs release their bite on her wrists. Relief flushed through her veins but she was still aching.

"Not from one of you."

"Unbelievable." The voice retorted and imagined a faceless being rolling their eyes. "Come on get up."

Summoning up strength she didn't have she opened her eyes faintly seeing blurs of dark coloring and then of course pale skin.

"I said let go of me." Her voice still managed to be demeaning even though she was fainting.

"You're basically unconscious." The man said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. If her vision was actually functioning she would have seen him raise both his eyebrows.

"I'm not a fucking damsel in distress alright? So let me the fuck go." She snapped angrily. Her legs were unbelievably wobbly underneath her.

"Well I'm not a fucking prince charming so get your head out of your ass. In case you haven't noticed I am getting you out of here."

Groaning she tried to get away from him but she was gently pressed against his chest.

"Then get my knives."

"Why?"

"So I can sever your limbs later." She says her vision spotting and she caught a look of his green eyes and the frustrated look on his face. "They're my knives and my weapon of choice. Just _get them_." It took all of her strength to demand that from him, wiggle out of his arms, and reach the table. She fumbled with her belt and all she can remember is his hands grabbing at her waist before she slipped into oblivion.

* * *

Flames crackling is the first thing she hears as she slips back into reality. When she opens her eyes it's the full moon, glistening up in the sky. There's hardly any stars and she wonders if they've all burned out. Pressing down on her elbows she attempts to lean up but it feels like a thousand cars have just been thrown at her. Her head throbs and it doesn't really settle in that she's not bound up. Nor is she locked up in a cell she's actually outside in the fresh air.

It's when she inhales and doesn't smell blood and sweat does it actually settle in.

Her first words are essentially, "What the fuck?"

"Sleeping Beauty awakes." The honey-like voice makes her flinch.

"Do I look like a blonde to you?" She retorts her eyes narrowing in on the boy that was sitting on the other side of the fire. His face his half in shadows but his green eyes seem to shine with amusement. Her eyes trace down to the curve of his jaw, his adams apple, to his clavicle, and then down his lean chest through his tattered shirt. His legs were sprawled out in front of him and he actually looked relaxed. There was something about it…that seemed too familiar but she couldn't put her finger on it.

Not that she wanted to. He would just be a pawn in her game of survival. She would do what Puck wanted her too. That was the only reason she had willed herself to keep breathing anyways.

"No but you look like a damsel." He said an arrogant smirk twisting on his lips. Santana rolled her eyes and looked down at her waist. Her knives are sitting where they belong and she can't help but feel a smirk toy at her lips. She doesn't verbally reply because she figures that he isn't even worth her breath. Instead she tried to conjure up reasons why the fuck he would save her. She leans back onto the ground staring back up at the starless sky her hands resting over her stomach. Through the thin fabric of her shirt she can feel the edge of something over her skin. Reaching towards the hemline of her shirt she noticed that a bandage was wrapped around her abdomen.

She also has this fleeting moment where she realized that he has seen her wounds.

It makes her shift uncomfortably.

"It's okay to ask why. I won't bite but for the record it doesn't bother me, if it doesn't bother you." She didn't have to look at him to know that he was smirking. Santana could basically hear the smugness in his voice. His sexual innuendo makes her think of Puck and there's this longing that forms in her heart. Every death of his that she had endured flashed through her mind and she turned her head away, so she could collect her bearings.

"You're not going to touch me." She told him solemnly. She didn't want to banter with him. She didn't even want to look at him, or talk to him. What she wanted was for it to Puck on the other side of the fire. Not this nameless bastard who had saved her life for lord knows fucking why.

"Unless you're you know a damsel needing my heroic charm." He teased and she dug her hands into the ground, still not looking at him.

"I will seriously chop off your dick if you call me that one more time." Santana threatened a certain amount of seriousness piercing her voice.

"You won't even come close." He claimed with such ease.

"I wouldn't make a gamble you'll surely lose." She comments. There's something about his comment that sparks a memory. She was standing in an empty room with just three other people. A faint melody buzzes in her head but she can't make out a name. It's too much of a distant memory. She doesn't like to think about the past.

"You would know all about that, now wouldn't you?" He's teasing but she can tell that there's curiosity in his voice as well. "Stealing from the militia…pretty clever if you ask me just executed so, so poorly. Tsk, tsk."

She doesn't bother replying. Instead she's just back to drowning in memories looking for a paradise that doesn't exist anymore.

"Aren't you the least bit curious? I know everything about you. Santana Thalia Lopez. Early twenties since we aren't quite sure of your birthdate. Has a keen liking towards knives and threatening to cut off her knight and shining armor's dick. Though I'm sure you were getting some from that guy who you were sobbing over. Which might I say was quite pathetic for someone who tries to act like a badass. Most people around there called you diablita. Spanish for little devil—"

"Can you just shut your goddamn mouth?" She yells angrily. Her brown eyes met his green ones that had a challenging gleam within them.

"And has a bit of a temper but I assume that's where the nickname is from."

"No. I'm not curious." It's a simple answer to his first question, and she doesn't feel like elaborating. He doesn't need to know that she's not asking anything because the idea of him saving her is absolutely repulsing. She didn't need anyone to save her; especially a guy of all people. She was a strong woman and she could have gotten out of there eventually. She didn't need his help. She certainly didn't need to know why he bandaged her up as if she was a patient and he was her doctor. She didn't need anyone's help. She was alone. Everyone she trusted died and she was not about to make an exception for this…arrogant stranger. But she also wasn't asking because she didn't want to hear about the militia anymore. She just wanted to get away and live someplace far, far away. She didn't want to be a prisoner in her own mind and she knows that if she asks him, she won't be able to stop thinking about it.

Her curiosity would eat her alive but she assumed that would be better than not being able to stop asking questions.

She can feel his gaze pressing into her skin like the knives that carved the scars into her flesh. "Can you stop?"

"Stop what?" He mused and Santana knew that he knew what she was talking about.

"Staring. Can't you go to sleep or some shit?"

"Are you going to go to sleep?"

"No."

"Then, nah. I don't have anything better to do." He shrugs and she really wants to take one of sticks that burning in the fire and throw on him only to hope he'd burn to death. With a heavy breath she just watched the sky as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. It was definitely more interesting than…whoever this was.

After a few moments he breaks the silence. "You're different than from what I remember."

"So I get stuck with a stalker after being tortured to the brink of death. Go figure." Santana mumbled under her breath, her lips rubbing together.

"What was that? I couldn't quite hear you princess."

Her nails have sunk into the ground at this point and anger is boiling in her veins. Randall's voice pops into her head and she swore she could feel his hands ghosting over her face. Managing another eye roll she doesn't turn to look at him or anything. "Just shut the fuck up, Twink."

"It's Sebastian, actually." Her mind racked for a memory.

"Do you honestly think I care?" She retorted.

"Well I think it would be much more attractive if you attempted to moan my actual name than Twink." He says, crossing his arm and his eyebrows lift in a suggestive manner.

"I'm not here to please you."

"Not yet. I happen to be irresistible."

She snorted. "Right."

"You act like this now but you'll be screaming my name later."

"Just leave me alone." Then with that she turned her head back up towards the sky. She ignored his comment about getting some rest since they had a 'long way to travel' tomorrow.

He was seriously loca if he thought she was going to follow him.

* * *

She really hated how she followed him but she told herself that it was because she didn't have any other choice.

He had food, water, and apparently some sort of shelter, which was what he was leading her too by the way. And when she tried to part ways with him she realized that all she had was knives and a body wrapped in bandages. It had taken a lot for her to swallow her pride and follow him when he woke her up at dawn.

Yeah, he woke her up _that_ fucking early.

She was entirely pissed off even though she didn't even sleep. Every time she closed her eyes Santana thought that she was going to relive the hallucinations and all the agony that came with it.

In fact she didn't even have to sleep to relive it. It was on a constant movie reel in her head. All she could think about was the arrow plunged through her best friend's chest. Though he was far more than just a friend, he was a little more than that and then some. She couldn't help but obsess over every step she had taken that night. Had there been anything she could have done differently? Could they have done it more efficiently i.e. without tripping the alarm? Could they have gotten past all the flying arrows? Could they have made it that last stretch of grass with all the supplies they had stolen in hand?

Could Puck have survived if maybe she had just done one _tiny_ little thing different?

Thinking about it gave her one of the biggest headaches she had ever had in her life. It was nothing compared to her body being lit on fire from the inside out. It was like someone had turned her blood into gasoline and the needle was the match that lighted it up. She cringed thinking about it and knowing that those dark black brown eyes had been watching her the whole time.

There's a thank you on the tip of her lips that she wants to say out loud to Sebastian. But then she dares one look back at him to find that he only dropped back to watch her ass.

"Get in front of me."

"Are you propositioning me?"

"What…" Her faces pulls together and she feels like slapping him but she refrains. "You're the one who knows where your supposed shelter is. So lead the way."

"Lead the way…if you insist." He whispered in her ear, pressing her back against his chest and his fingers are seriously ghosting over her arm. Pushing her elbow back into his ribcage she scoffed in disgust.

"I get that you're horny but you're not getting any piece of this." Gripping his arm and digging her nails into his skin, she pushed him in front of her.

She's not exactly sure why he's wearing that god awful smirk of his on his lips.

With a deep breath and a slur of curse words in her native tongue leaving her lips, she focuses on their surroundings. They're not exactly on the side of the road but they're close enough to it so they can use it as a guide. They're not too deep in the trees either because there's flesh eating monsters among the shadows. Running into a herd of zombies isn't really ideal when she's the weakest she's ever been and she's not even sure if Sebastian here knows how to use a weapon.

She titled her head up into the sun as she walked, letting it kiss her skin that seemed to be getting more color as the day passed. They would have to seek out shelter somewhere soon though. Her stamina wasn't exactly at its top performance considering the amount of blood loss she endured. It's hardly been a couple hours since they started walking from their first resting point but it's already getting hard to breath.

Honestly they should have stopped miles back but Santana's not willing to stop. She wants to push herself and reassure herself that she wasn't that weak. That it was okay that the militia had miraculously beaten her and taken her captive. That it didn't matter that she screamed at the top of her lungs for her captors. It didn't matter that Sebastian here decided to be her get out of jail free card. None of it matted.

She wasn't weak. She was a survivor.

They stopped about a mile later when she almost fainted.

She loathed the fact that she had landed in Sebastian's arms. She seriously would have rather slammed into the ground. Especially when he made a comment about how if she wanted to be close to him all she had to do was ask. Her eyes had never rolled so much in a day's time in a long, long, time.

* * *

"You should eat this. It'll help give you some energy for tomorrow." He handed her a handful of berries that he had taken from his backpack. She had never really given it much thought seeing as she rarely ever gave him any attention. If she did it was mentally because she was still trying to figure out how he had known her.

She places a few berries on her tongue before she realizes that the backpack was in pretty good condition. It was jet black and seemed to be stocked with supplies. Instantly she spit the berries out.

"What the fuck was that for?" He asked mocking offense. "I'm not the one who needs a shitload of nourishment here!"

"You work for the militia."

"Great observant skills you've got there, Lopez." He remarked sarcastically. He handed her another handful of berries but she recoiled from him. "Are you being serious right now?"

She just stares at him with wide eyes. He's always been her enemy and with that realization dawning on her she realized just who he was.

Sebastian Smythe. Head of the Warblers. Lost in a singing duel of Smooth Criminal by the King of Pop, against her. He also threw a slushy in her face. And now what was he? A militia general?

"For fuck's sake! I got you out of that cell and you think that I'm some sort of threat."

"We've never been on the same team."

"Well you seemed to prefer pussy and I preferred dick but it seems we've both become fluid since the outbreak."

"I'm not talking about sexuality you incessant idiot!" She screeched. "How am I supposed to trust you of all people? For all I know Randall is going—" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her body shuddered thinking of his hands on her breasts, then moving over her stomach, and his breath on her ear. She didn't even want to think about his lips on her ears and neck. He hadn't done anything aside from that but it all gave her chills. Through gritted teeth finished her sentence. "If this was your brilliant plan to get me to lead you to some rebellious ass group of idiotic people who are plotting to be the fucking demise of you psychos just kill me. I don't know who they are and if I did I sure as hell wouldn't snitch."

He just stares at her in shock for a moment, chewing on the berries. "They're so idiotic yet you tried to do what they want to do and were tortured for—"

"Shut up."

With a heavy sigh he held out his hand again. "Don't waste them."

"I'm not hungry."

"_Santana_." He sighed frustrated.

"I lost my appetite."

"You need to eat."

"Just leave me alone." She barked, folding her arms over her chest.

"I'm sure if I was Puck you'd probably take these from his mouth why you fucking kissed him."

"_Don't_." She growled at him. "Don't you ever dare ever talk about him like that again. Or any of the others or I will slice your throat." Then with that she got up and walked away from the fireside and sat by herself for the rest of the night.

She's laying down pretending to be asleep when he comes over with blanket, courtesy of his militia goodies she's sure, and whispers, "You should trust me because I saved your life and because I know what it's like to have them take someone from you."

She tells herself that it's a lie and it only makes her trust him less.

* * *

Waking up to someone shaking you relentlessly was not only uncomfortable but it also made Santana annoyed with Sebastian even more. "Can you calm your tits?"

"Unless you want to be a fresh meal for the undead I suggest you move your hot little ass." He said and it wasn't even the teasing witty tone he used with her all the time. He was actually serious as he held her by her shoulders and kept their faces inches apart.

"Can you get off of me then so I can move?" The Latina arched a brow and watched him realize their positions before standing up and not offering her a hand. She rolled her eyes but it wasn't like she was going to take it anyways.

She struggled to get on her feet although now she was used to the pain buzzing around her body. The moment she was on her feet Sebastian wrapped his fingers around her palm and started running.

"Are you an idiot?!" She accused him. He just looked at her with this angry and impatient look on his face. She almost laughed at the way his lips were thinned out into a fine line, the bottom one jutting out just a little bit. "You don't run at the first sound of zombies. You'll grow tired and they'll catch up. We can walk until we absolutely have to run."

"Yeah and what makes you an expert?" It didn't really matter that he sounded dangerously sarcastic the way he slowed down into a power walk let her know that he believed her.

"I wasn't shacked up in a makeshift military base or whatever the fuck you want to call it. I actually had to fight to keep breathing oxygen." Prying his fingers off her hand she let her arms hang at her sides. Her muscles were aching and she swore she could hear them crack with every step she took. Her legs felt like lead and collapsing honestly seemed like a pleasant idea. Her hair was twisted into a messy bun, held together by all its different strands. She didn't have a rubber band or a hair tie to keep it up. Most of the time she wore it down but she didn't want to feel it on her neck. Not when the sun was beating down on her skin and she still felt like her body was burning twenty-four seven.

She heard the crackling footsteps and just like every other time it made a shiver run down her spine. Santana wasn't sure how many she had killed but it was a high enough number for people to think that she wasn't scared at all. Especially since fought with knives and most of the time it required her to get up close and personal with the creatures. Well that was if she wasn't throwing them first.

Daring a glance at Sebastian, the Latina watched his face curious as to what he was thinking about. His face had been drawn blank, as hers was at all times, and he kept his eye straight ahead. His hand was still peeking out from his side as if he was offering it to her. Annoyance trickled down her spine. She wasn't a baby.

It was almost night time though and there was no way they could create a shelter if they had company from the undead.

"How far away is this place?" She asked trying to fill the silence so she doesn't have to hear the droning behind her as well as the rattling leaves.

"We've got at least two more days." He tells her, his gaze unmoving.

Her gaze drops from his and she looked behind them faintly seeing figures lugging themselves towards them. There wasn't a lot about five if her vision was trustworthy.

"We could fight them." She said as she brought her fingers to the hilt of her blades.

"Because you're in tip-top shape to fight alongside me." He scoffed giving her a once over but then went right back to looking straight ahead. "You're hilarious or actually just delirious."

She stopped in her tracks and folded her arms over her chest. It took him a couple moments before he realized that she was no longer matching his stride. He turned around a look of disgust drawn all over his face.

"Now is not the time to pull this sort of stunt." He told her sternly and mimicked her stance by folding his arms.

"You're the one who is still treating me like a damsel."

"Santana," He called for her through gritted teeth, turning his head down and pinching the bridge of his nose. "You aren't even fully healed and you can barely walk five miles without wobbling on your own feet. The moment you start putting your body though the physical fighting to stab those…things, you'll probably reopen your wounds."

There was something in his voice around the time where he failed to call the creatures by their actual name that seemed so foreign to her. He had always been either sarcastic, serious, or just no emotion at all. That's how he was when they had crossed paths a few years ago. It was the first time that he seemed distant, like his words were where he was standing but his mind was somewhere else.

_I know what it's like to have them take someone from you_.

Her head shakes and she looked behind her to see that the undead is just a few yards away. "You look like you're gonna piss your pants."

"Let's just start walking again." She hated the way he was looking at her; like she was some vulnerable human being who didn't stand a chance.

"How about we just kill them so we don't have to worry about them fucking finding us again?!" She exclaimed in anger. She wouldn't let him look at her like that. "Eliminate the threat."

"See that's your problem." He shouted at her, extending one arm to point at her. "You always just want to fight everything that crosses your path. You're impulsive, you're reckless, and frankly it's going to get you fucking killed!"

"You're just scared." She replied, wondering why it would matter to him if she got killed in the first place.

"Scared of what?"

"Zombies. You're such a pussy you can't even say their name." She can hear them a little louder now and it caused her to remove a knife from her belt. She doesn't even wait for him to say another word. Instead she turned away from him and headed towards the undead.

With a heavy breath she pressed her back against a tree. They were just a few steps behind her. Slowly she craned her neck and watched them come towards her. She doesn't bother to spare a glance at Sebastian; instead she lunges out from behind the tree plunging her knife into the Zombie's chest. She knows to keep herself at a reasonable distance, not wanting to touch their rotting flesh. Their skin just looked like a sterile white gray stained with the blood of other human beings. She doesn't have to look at them to know that's what it looks like. They all look the same except for their eyes. That was the one human trait they had kept from their old life. The one she had just killed had brown orbs that went blank as it slumped to the ground. Her heart pumped in her chest and she was sure that they could sense it. Grunting she removed her knife and took another one in her left hand. The others were a just a few steps behind leaving her out of reach. Pretending that the pain didn't exist she winded her arm back before launching one of her knives into the air. It landed in one of the others eyes. She hoped that the blade had penetrated the brain so she wouldn't have to go finish it off.

In total there were seven. Well five since she had just killed two.

She was already sweating and her back was aching with pain. Sebastian had been right; she really wasn't in the right shape to fight. And there was that tiny voice of reason in the back of her head that told her to step back but she couldn't.

Santana had always been terrible from stepping down from a fight.

Taking off in a spring towards the next one that was just three trees to the left, she plunged a knife into its back. Sweat dripped from her forehead and her jeans felt like they were suffocating her legs. She wouldn't stop moving, she wouldn't stop fighting.

She was not a fucking damsel.

She swiveled on her heel inwardly, wincing at the way pain shot through her back as she lifted her leg in the air and kicked the one that was coming at her from behind. It was always easy to know exactly where they were, because that low growling sound they couldn't stop making.

She made the mistake of turning back around to get the knife she had just used. The fabric of her shirt that was sticking to her back barely lifted and she squeezed her eyes shut. So maybe this would be how she died.

The gunshots made her flinch.

Opening one eye she looked behind her to see Sebastian aiming a gun, his gray shirt ridden up from where he must have grabbed it. Her body flinched twice more when he killed the one with her knife in its eye.

"Now that you made me waste those," He exclaimed annoyance dripping off of his words. His hands were moving behind his back as he stuffed the gun back in the waistband of his pants. "Get up."

Everything started to spin when she stood up from where she had been crouching on the ground. The adrenaline she had felt earlier had declined rapidly and the pain coursed through her veins. She tumbled to the ground her eyes fluttering shut just as Sebastian growled the words _I fucking told you so_.

* * *

She wakes up to the sound of something beating in her ears that sounds an awful like someone's heart. Her cheek is pressed up against something soft and her hair has fallen in her face. When she opens her eyes though she can distinctly see someone's jaw and there's a pair of arms wrapped underneath her back and then the joint of her knee.

That's when she realized that she's being carried and at first she's oddly okay with it because she's exhausted and is met with that familiar feeling of being hit by a truck.

But then she realized that it was Sebastian who was carrying her.

"Put me down." She snapped squirming in his arms, leaning her head up.

"And she's alive." He says sneaking a glance down at her. Her gaze barely brushed with his because all she can look at is his lips that are carved in a wicked smirk. Subconsciously she licks her lips and she placed her head back against his chest.

"It's not funny put me down. I can walk by myself."

He sighs heavily and she can feel his hard muscles move against her side; it sends a shiver down her spine.

"I have had to put up with your shit for three weeks. I have bandaged your wounds and carried you way to many fucking miles. Trust me I would love to put you down." He whispered, his arms tightening around her. The way his lips quiver into a scowl makes her wonder just how long he's been carrying her. "But this way I can ensure you won't do something idiotic for the last two miles of this trip."

"And you think I haven't put up with your shit for the three weeks?" She commented.

"I liked it better when you were asleep."

"Funny, I'd like it better if you were dead." She groaned, moving in his arms but it only made his grip tighter.

"Endearing, now just be quiet for once."

"I don't live to please you."

"So you've said." He commented his smirk inching a bit wider. She was quiet for a moment as she looked at his jawline and then at his neck, trailing all the way down to the neckline of his shirt that was straight across from her eyes. A black line was painted over his fair skin but she wasn't sure what it made. She just knew it was a tattoo.

Why did he have a tattoo?

"Why didn't you want to fight them?" She asked. Remembering the way he couldn't even speak the word Zombie when they were a few feet away. Somehow she's not even the least bit surprised when the smirk on his face dropped.

"None of your business." Then he tossed her just barely to reposition her and then he pursed his lips in a fine line. Apparently it was a touchy subject for him.

* * *

They finally reached the house and she was shocked to say to the least, when she noticed it was in pretty good condition. In all honestly when he had told her all those weeks ago that he had a shelter she didn't think it would be so…big.

The paint job however wasn't exactly charming and there were plants outrageously growing all over the exterior. It looked entirely messy and her brows knitted at the thought that she would be resting here for who knows how long. She knew for a fact that the ratty appearance was just the Earth's way of making it apart of its natural scenery. But she also knew that it was probably kept that way to make it look vacant.

Because on the inside it was the most luxurious thing she had seen in a long, long time.

It was a farmhouse for starters. So its quaint vibe was incredibly stereotypical. There was white couch that was decorated with embroidered pillows with stupid quotes on them. There was a medium sized table stretching out across the living room sitting on a burgundy oval rug. There were flowers etched into the fabric that gave it a bit more color. There was even a little wooden rocking chair with a pillow that read some bible verse she didn't care to read. Teapots and teacups were meticulously set on a small coffee table by the sofa.

The thick black curtains were the only thing out of place.

"Upstairs to your right is the bathroom. You can shower, courtesy of solar power." Sebastian told her finally setting her down on her feet. With one swift movement he shrugged off the backpack and set it on the ground by the rocking chair. She didn't want to say anything but even if she wanted there was no time to reply since he was always walking off to what she assumed was the kitchen.

Slowly she turned to the right and walked up the stairs. There were pictures hanging on the wall of strangers she had never met in her life. It was two little blonde boys, playing in their year with water guns. Smiles were worn out on their faces and it pinched her heart. They reminded her of Sam and even Quinn. It made her wonder if that's what their kids would have looked like.

She shuddered remembering the pit even if she was pretty sure it was just a hallucination. In reality she didn't know how they died. They had fallen back because Quinn was injured and Sam wasn't going to leave her.

Tearing her eyes away from the photos she finished climbing up the stairs. She pushed open the first door on the right and low and behold was a bathroom. Her eyes marveled at the shower as she slipped down out of her ratted clothes. Her knives set gently on the counter top by the wall where there was a place to set your toothbrush.

When she was in her bra in underwear she peeled back her bandages. Her eyes didn't dare look at her reflection but they were particularly caught on her hipbone. The stitches closed her wounds but she could already see the faint white edge of the scar. She gulped peeling the rest of her bandages off. They hardly had any blood and she shivered knowing that Sebastian had once again tended her wounds.

Turning the knob to the shower and then pressing the button so it would come through the actual shower head, she pulled back the curtain and stepped into the steaming hot water.

Her skin relished in the feeling of the water running down every crevasse of her body. Her hands massaged her skin as soapsuds covered her caramel skin. There was a faint stinging from her wounds but this was the best and cleanest she had ever felt in a long time.

She didn't leave the shower until the water had turned ice cold and she had no other choice but to get out. She pulled the fresh towel that was handing on a rack and squeezed her hair with it, before wiping it over her skin. Wrapping it tightly around her body she pulled the curtain back and stepped out onto the slippery floor.

There was a note on the counter lying on top of a fresh pair of clothes.

_I'll take these off of you later. –S_.

She crumpled up the note and changed into the cotton v-neck shirt that was _pink_ of all things. And the pair of plaid pajama shorts that clashed with them. Santana didn't bother to go back down stairs to join him for dinner. She wasn't even hungry. So when she left the bathroom she took the room to right. It wasn't anything special; blank walls and a single bed by the window that of course was blocked out with those thick black curtains.

She fell asleep faster than she would have liked but she always woke herself up.

This house may be a dream but it didn't ward off the nightmares.

* * *

Two weeks in she found the training room in the basement. Sebastian had been passed out and she just couldn't resist in giving herself a full tour of the house. In all truths she had hardly seen any of it aside from the bathroom, her room, the living room, and of course the kitchen. Sebastian always made sure that she had some sort of meal to eat and every second she was downstairs he wasted no time to annoy the shit out of her. Santana, however, had grown pretty good at biting her tongue and not giving him the time of day.

Even when he taunted her about the night he "saved" her.

There was a lit flame of curiosity burning through her veins almost every second of every day but she still wouldn't ask. She wouldn't ask why he decided to save her because that would mean that he would open up to her and she didn't want to feel like she owed him something.

She knew that he was curious about her. He may know all the statistics about her because he's just that fucking creepy but he didn't know all that she'd been through.

And she intended to keep it that way.

She had been in the kitchen looking for something to eat aside form chicken noodle fucking soup when she had made the mistake of opening a door that wasn't the one to the pantry. Instead she had found a staircase leading to what she presumed to be the basement or some shit.

Casting one last look over her shoulder to make sure that Sebastian hadn't magically appeared behind her she turned back to the staircase. She didn't go down just then, instead she crept back into the living room peeling back one of the curtains. Quietly she cracked one of the windows so it made it look like she went outside.

Hopefully that would buy her some time.

Silently she descended down the stairs and closed the door quietly behind her. Her fingers dragged across the rough walls, searching for a light switch as she reached the bottom. Her toes sank into something that definitely wasn't cement but it was something tight and almost plastic like. It took her a couple moments of trying to navigate around in the dark when she found the switch. At first she was under the impression that it wasn't working because it still remained pitch black and she couldn't see a thing.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." She mumbled to herself her fingers lingering on the switch. She's just about to flick it back off when lights start to flicker on and her surroundings come out of the darkness.

There was a punching bag in the middle of the room. Weights in the far left corner of the room, all perfectly aligned on a rack. Then towards the right there were dummies that you could also use as a punching target. Jump ropes hung on the wall with a pair of boxing gloves as well. Her favorite part however was the target board in the very back which she knew she could aim her knives at.

A devilish grin carved its way out on her lips.

She didn't bother to put on the boxing gloves because she didn't want to use them. She didn't want one thing to be out of place just in case it Sebastian actually used this room. Plus she was never one to actually use that kind of shit anyways. When she had practiced with Puck, one on one in combat fighting, they didn't have anything to use. Not to mention she didn't want anything bound around her wrists. There were tiny scars from the chains but her cuts had healed a long while ago.

The mere thought of Puck made her depressed and angry all at the same time. Her heart mourned with heartbreak but also revenge.

His dead body had been thrown in the pit.

It disgusted her.

Somehow she had ended up in front of the punching bag, her stance just as she learned, her arms violently moving back and forth. Shock ran through her knuckles, to her wrist, all the way up her arms but she didn't stop punching it. In her head all she could think about was the way everyone had died. Brittany floated up in her head first. Santana had never let her do anything to risky when it came to gathering up supplies, or setting up shelter. She just wanted to make sure that she was okay and in top condition. It wasn't that Brittany couldn't fight but after the way she lost her abuela, she never wanted to see Brittany with so much as a scratch on her skin. Santana should have known it would have backfired. The blonde girl always had done what she wanted. And in the end she had snuck off to go get some supplies and never came back. Santana had gone looking for her and eventually had found her. She had been running furiously through streets of strangers all trying to look for some place to set up shelter. It had only been a few months since the outbreak. If she had to guess probably around four to be exact. Panic had embedded itself in her every vein especially when she heard the scream. That was when she had screamed out the blonde girl's name and her heart filled to the brim with agony.

She had found Brittany in the entrance of an alleyway, slumped against a wall with a bite mark tearing into the flesh of her neck.

Santana had slumped to her knees, tears streaming down her face. The girl's name had feel off her lips as she looked at her. In her hand there had been a lighter, probably something she had stolen to bring back to them. Carefully Santana had taken it out of her hand and pocketed it before walking away.

The thought of killing her crossed her mind but she would never be able to bring herself to do that. That's why she always looked in the eye of every Zombie she killed. To make sure that it wasn't Brittany's ice blue eyes always filled with joy and determination.

Her arm slammed into the bag and she held back a scream in her throat. Brittany's blood was on her hands.

Angry tears slid over her cheeks and she thought of all the people that had died because of her. Her abuela, Brittany, Puck, and so many strangers she had tossed away for the chance of her own survival.

Maybe she was just as bad as the militia.

There was a thick layer of sweat over her body at this point, her lips curled into a growl. Her jaw was set and she just kept punching and what felt like a million deaths playing in front of her eyes. It was like she was sitting in a movie theater watching an old grainy film and because she had paid the price for the ticket, she couldn't leave until it was done.

Her knuckles slammed into the bag as the salty tears ran over her face. Tomorrow there would probably be purple discolorations on her hands but she didn't care.

She just kept punching and punching and punching.

Somewhere along the lines she stopped reliving everyone's death and instead saw the black beady eyes, an angular jaw, and a devilish grin smiling up at her, as he crouched underneath her back face.

Her heart pumped in her chest and she swung her arms back pretending that it was _his_ face she was ramming her fists into. This time it was him who would have blood pouring from their skin, chained up and helpless.

And it was her who got to smirk for endless hours and watch him break.

* * *

She had made it a habit to start cracking the window every day and sneaking down into the training room. It didn't matter that Sebastian got furious every single time because he thought that she had been roaming about. It's the same every time. She comes back up from the basement and he's always sitting in the living room, his elbows poised on his knees face in his palms. There's this scowl on his face that almost have some sort of haunted look to it. His face is always carved out in very little emotion but every time she exits the kitchen, claiming she snuck in from the back door since he closed the window, he just looked so…_worried_.

And it scared her because they didn't have that type of relationship.

They didn't hate each other per se but they really just tolerated each other.

But sometimes when his leg is rapidly moving up and down as his fingers grip his silky brown locks, she knows that he's thinking of someone else. She can only see his side profile but it's not hard to tell that it's written all over his face. Every time she finds herself captivated by it but when she can't stand to look at his vulnerable face anymore, she makes some witty retort.

"You look like you're a little kid who's about to wet the bed." She said, leaning off the entrance of the kitchen and turning back into the kitchen.

She doesn't need to look at him to know that all that vulnerability had already turned into anger from the moment he heard her voice.

"You need to quit sneaking off." He barked at her when he entered the kitchen.

"And who are you my fath—" She can't finish her sentence because he's got her turned around, his hands gripping her by the shoulders. She feels like he's digging his hands into her wounds like Randall had done because her muscles were entirely sore. But she always worked through it because she was building up her strength. The glass of water she had been filling banged against the sink, water splashing up. The faucet was also still streaming out water because she didn't have a chance to turn it off either.

"I can't protect you if you're out there and not in here."

"I don't need you to protect me." Santana snapped her eyes filling with anger. "I'm not a little girl. I can take care of myself."

"No you can't." He answered his fingers digging into her skin. She was in a cotton black tank top and those ugly plaid pajama shorts he had given her the first day they had arrived. Her eyes flicker over his face that's pinched up in frustration. She can feel the fabric of his sweatpants against her bare legs and he's got a gray tank-top on since that's the only color he was capable of wearing.

"And who are you to make that call? You've never known me." She challenged with a perk of her brow. His lips part fumbling on the words in his throat but she knows he won't say anything. He doesn't have an answer because she was right. A smirk flattened itself out on her lips as he let go of her. Her brown eyes are gleaming triumphantly whereas his green ones are as empty as the cookie jar sitting in the cabinets above them.

"Just get cleaned up. I'll make us dinner." He swallowed stepping back from her.

"I'm not hungry." She countered, stalking out of the kitchen her glass of water forgotten.

"You need to eat." He called after her and she turned around to see him shaking his hand and pinching the bridge of his nose.

That was all it took for her snap.

"Tell me who the fuck do you think you are, asshole?" She growled at him and was her that pushed him up against the countertop. Her elbow was pressed into his abdomen as she leaned forward so he had no choice but to lean back and feel the edge of the counter dig into his skin. "Who do you think you are!?" She yelled at him shoving him as the anger crowed every one of her nerves.

His face remained blank and he looked as bored as ever.

"You don't get to boss me around like you're my father. My father died years ago. You do not know what I need. I am sick and tired of you bossing me around like I'm little girl who doesn't know anything about the world. I had to fight every goddamn day to keep myself breathing!" Santana's eyes were flaming with anger and it matched the conviction in her voice. Her chest rose up and down as she set her jaw. "I know what it's like to hardly have enough food for one fucking person when you're traveling with three others. I am _not_ hungry and I sure as hell don't want to eat dinner with you. So leave me alone. I'm not your responsibility."

And she just stood there as a silence enveloped them while she tried to catch her breath. Ever so slowly a smirk broke out on his face and he leaned his face closer to hers, "If this was what it took to get you to pin me up against something, I would have done this ages ago."

She took a step back and rolled her eyes. "Disgusting." She scoffed and walked away towards the restroom so she could shower.

As promised she didn't go down for dinner instead she switched into her original clothes that he had washed for her when she had taken that first shower. Frustrated she had curled herself up into the thick red, white, and blue star-patterned blankets and closed her eyes.

This time she didn't wake herself up before the nightmares came.

_She could recognize her abuela's house anywhere. It wasn't decorated much but there were pictures almost everywhere; especially on the refrigerator. However she wasn't exactly looking at the pictures of her dressing up as Jasmine from Aladdin for Halloween, or pictures of Quinn, Brittany, and her at cheer camp. Instead she was standing in the living room as her grandmother sat with perfect posture on the brown leather couch. She was dressed in a small black sweater and pants, her lips pursed into a thin line. Honestly this was a normal considering her grandmother was never one to smile hardly at all. There was nothing out of place either. Everything seemed perfectly normal. _

_Minus the gun that rested in the palms of her grandmother's hand. _

"_I'm not going to do it." She heard herself say and of course her elder shook her head. Her fingers came up to wipe her brunette hair out of her face as she held out the gun in the other. Santana kept her arms at her side. _

"_Santana." Her abuela warned sharply. "They already got your parents, which is why you're here in the first place. You're luckily I even let you through my front door. You're going to do this for me and then you're going to go find Noah and find someplace safe." _

"_I won't kill you." Tears welled in her eyes and she shook her own head furiously. _

"_Do not cry." She heard her abuela warn, that sharpness to her tone that she had grown up listening too. "Just take it and pull the trigger. I have lived a long life I do not intend to see the world as I know it wither around me." _

"_No—"_

"_Take it!" Her abuela ordered, shoving the gun in her hands. It was the first time in which Santana had realized that she had gotten off the couch. Brittle hands wrapped Santana's fingers around it, placing her index finger on the trigger. A tear slipped down her cheek and she shook her head. _

_She knew better than to verbally protest because they were both stubborn but Santana always followed what her grandmother wanted._

"_You're wasting time. Just pull the trigger already." _

_Her head was violently shaking as well as her hands. "I can't. I can't do it." _

"_You can and you will. Santana do not disappoint m—" _

Santana sat straight up in her bed, sweat beading at the edge of her forehead.

The deafening sound of the bullet rang in her ears and her hands gripped the covers. Her eyes looked over the three colors that could be associated with a flag of a country that no longer stood anymore. She hated the reminder of what once had been a paradise and had now turned into hell.

And it had turned into the hell the moment she had pulled that trigger.

Gasping for breath she heard someone—Sebastian shuffling outside her door. Clamping her lips shut she sunk into the mattress of the bed.

"Are you alright Santana?" He asked after softly knocking on her door. No words left her mouth however. She just pulled the covers up to her chin and rolled over so her back was facing the door. It creaked quite loudly when he opened it but he of course, closed it shortly after thinking she had fallen back asleep.

Truthfully she was wide awake.

* * *

She forgot to crack the window a couple days later when she finally surfaced from her room. Her head was still buzzing from her nightmare that she could hardly focus on anything else. It completely slipped her mind she hadn't even changed out of her pants and t-shirt. Instead she just grabbed her knives and immediately went down to the basement. She didn't waste her time with the punching bag or any of the dummies even though she would love to punch something. Instead she just threw her knives into the target.

She was a little rusty.

The first two that she had thrown didn't land in the center but rather the edge of the ring around it. Frustration was working up within her but instead of letting it get the best of her, she took a deep breath. She could even hear Puck's voice in her ear when he was teaching her how to shoot arrows.

"Stop getting hotheaded. It won't help you." He had told her once.

In which she had replied, "Oh really and how would you know?"

"Since I'm fairly badass at archery, just close her eyes and take a deep breath." Then he walked up behind her and helped her position her arms. Standing there in the makeshift training room she could almost feel his touch ghosting across her skin.

_God_, she missed him.

Opening her eyes she launched knife after knife in the air, they all hit the center target. She was just about to throw the last one when she swiveled around, launching it, and proceeded to watch it land in the doorframe.

It barely missed Sebastian's eye.

"I should have known that you've been down here."

"Yeah well I never pegged you as a genius."

"You shouldn't be down here." He told her and it made her roll her eyes.

"Save your breath, Smythe." She crossed her arms over her chest as his eyes traveled down her body. She watched as his whole body moved in one of his deep sighs. She stood completely still as he walked up to her and gently ghosted his fingers over hers.

"There are gloves in here for a reason." He told her in only a whisper referencing her bruised knuckles. His thumb barely brushed over him as she raised his electrifying green eyes back to hers. A string of breath caught in her throat as she looked at him. She told herself that her heart was beating fast because she had been working out.

It was one of the shittiest lies she had ever came up with.

"I don't need them."

"Predictable." He whispered again and she felt a shiver run down her back.

Taking a step back she swallowed the lump in her throat. "I don't need anyone." Then she threw a punch at him and his hand swiftly caught her wrist just before she made contact.

"What the fuck was that for?"

"I'm making you actually useful for once." She smirked, shoving her knee up into his stomach. He staggered back but didn't fall down.

"You don't want to fight me. I'll win." He said taking a step towards her.

"Don't flatter yourself." She retorted, ducking out of his way as he took a swung at her. She took the opening to swipe her leg across the map to make him fall. A victorious smirk crossed her face his back hit the ground with a loud bang. Standing up she walked over to his side with her hands on her hips. "You fight like a girl. Now get up and _fight_ me." She was just out of his reach however so he couldn't reach out and pull her down.

"I'm not going to fight you." Sebastian told her and started to walk towards the door. That familiar anger that always seemed to be consuming her, bubbled up in her veins. Before she could stop herself she lunged at him and all with one quick movement, he turned around, grabbed her waist and threw her to the ground.

With a loud smack her back hit the ground and she grunted in pain. He placed a foot on her stomach and crouched down next to her. He just stared at her as she eyed him angrily.

"I told you—" He tried to say as she reached up and cupped his neck, pushing him off balance. With ease she swung herself over his torso straddling him.

"What was it you were saying ag—" Santana smirked just as he switched their positions. He had her arms pinned to her side as his face hovered over hers.

He brought his lips just next to her ear, "You'll lose." She squeezed her eyes shut and she was back in that cell—

"_Tell me where they are!" Her arms bound above her head and Randall might as well been a ticking bomb in front of her. His face was contorted in anger, his knuckles white from gripping the hilt of her dagger. _

"_Sir she doesn't even have the mark—" A squeaky voice filled with fear, called out from behind her. _

"_Did I ask you to speak?" Randall growled, his beady eyes not leaving Santana's. He brought the blade to her flesh but didn't press it into her wound. "You've got until the count of three to tell me where the rest of your friends are." _

_Santana closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _

"_One…" He rasped and she could feel the cool silver inching into her skin. Her lips stayed barely parted, unmoving. _

"_Two…" Randall warned and he began to slice down. _

"_Three!" He shouted and dug the blade into her skin—_

"Get off of me!" Santana screeched, bucking her legs up to knock Sebastian over. Scrambling to her feet she started towards the stairs. Her breaths were insanely shallow and it felt like her throat was swelling up, so she couldn't breathe.

"Santana, Santana, wait!" Sebastian called after her. In two short strides he was on her heels and he reached out and grabbed her waist.

Instantly she tore her skin away from his contact and turned around and growled, "Get away from me."

* * *

She woke up from one nightmare and launched herself into another.

Sebastian was sitting on the edge of her bed his head poised on her waist. There were bags underneath his eyes and although he looked slightly pissed there was this disgusting look of concern on his face. Sitting up she recoiled from him.

They hadn't really had any physical contact since he had caught her in the training room. She can still feel his fingers on her arms and there was a visible outline to constantly remind her that that's how hard he had grabbed her. His knuckles had even dragged across her bare scars since her shirt had ridden up. She still felt stupid for fighting him.

He was a part of the militia, or at least he had been. She should have known it was a bad idea.

The thing she hates the most is that he brought back that _weak_ feeling of hers again.

It was like all that time spent down in that training room was for nothing.

"You were having a nightmare." He told her, gently.

"The only nightmare that I'm having is watching you sit on my bed."

"Can you just stop acting like your some tough bitch for once?" His hand that had been lying on her blankets reached up and rubbed his face.

She stayed silent but nodded her head in the direction of the door.

"I'm not them." He told her earnestly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"You're all the same." She found herself muttering, her head held high.

"They killed my brother." He told her and his green eyes that had basically been blank of emotion filled with this horror.

"I don't—"

"Just shut up for once." He snapped looking at her with a fixed glare but it didn't cover up the anguish in his eyes. "Vance. That was his name. He was two years younger than me, probably wouldn't even realize we were brothers. He looked more like my mother, blonde hair, and blue eyes. I definitely was offered more in the looks department but he was definitely smarter. He liked…to reinvent things, his words not mine. He's the reason this house has power. He made the solar panels, installed them and everything. All I did was get drunk on any alcohol I could find…"

He's not even looking at her and she really wants to plug her ears so she doesn't have to hear it but she's too curious. His voice is so hollow, so dead, with a hint of self-loathing and she can't help but be entirely captivated.

Sebastian Smythe had a heart. Who knew.

"He made me come with him one day to get some wood for the fireplace, even though we weren't going to every light it. He just didn't want it to be empty. He wanted to make this place feel like an actual home. That's when they found us. The militia and they made Vance work for him. He gave them power…" He trailed off again, still not looking towards her. He reached up and wiped at his eyes and that when she realized that he was actually crying. There was a part of her that wanted to laugh but she was completely still.

Frozen at his words and also confused as to why he was telling her all of this.

"At first he just made light bulbs and other pointless shit that couldn't hurt anyone. But of course things changed and he helped create devices that could kill people slowly. As long as he did what they asked I stayed alive. They told him that I was left to die in a cell and he believed them. Everything he did he did for me. But really, I was training to become a solider. It was like I finally found a purpose since I had just been fucking around. Then one day he just stopped making everything. He refused because he said that he didn't want to have any more blood on his hands."

He finally looked up at her and the first thing she noticed was the tear streaks down his cheeks. Her lips parted to say something but no words formed in her throat.

She was speechless.

"They gave him a day's head start before they released the dogs." His voice was incredibly cold and his eyes bored into hers. "I know what it's like for them to take someone from you."

"Why…" Santana finally said after a few moments of silence. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because he also helped power the machine that helped create the serum that they injected you with."

"I don't want to hear this." She shook her head and averted her gaze from his. "Just go away."

Of course he didn't leave but rather leaned towards her just a little bit more. "It was an experiment and I got you out before they initiated the final stage.

"What was the final stage?" The words tumbled off her lips before she could stop herself. She still wasn't looking at him however, her eyes still glued to the floor.

His arm reached up and took her chin in his fingertips, so he could connect their eyes together.

"They were going to throw you in the pit. Don't you get it, Santana you're immune."

* * *

_Immune_.

The word seemed to swim around in her head in the sound of Sebastian's voice.

And it wouldn't shut up.

It had been three days since he had told her that she was immune and it didn't even take long for her to figure out just what she immune to. The last stage was throwing her into the pit and the pit was filled with zombies. She was immune to the undead.

Perhaps she should have been happy about that.

Maybe she should have been jumping up and down screaming about how much of a badass that made her. She was immune. _Immune_, _Immune_, _Immune_.

But honestly she just felt like an alien in her own body.

She was a lab rat of the militia's and because of it she had unfinished business with them.

For the rest of her life she would always be running.

So much for finding paradise because that was nothing but a hopeless dream now.

* * *

He was dishing out some canned peaches when she descended from the stairs and tossed a knife into the wall to get his attention.

"You're going to tell me everything." She demanded and he just wore this wry smile on his face.

"Took you long enough." He mused forgetting the food on the counter and turning around to walk towards her. He guided them both to the living room and they sat facing each other.

Santana was on the couch and Sebastian on the table in front of it.

Her bare legs were tucked into her own chest by her arms that were tucked into a soft hoodie. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun but some loose strands still managed to be in her face. Sebastian looked far more composed than her, with his usual tank-top and sweats on.

"You can start anytime now." She told him since he was just staring at her, as if he was trying to figure her out or something.

"You're going to give me something in return when we're done."

"I'm not sleeping with you."

"Although we both know you'd _jump_ at the chance," He smirked. "I just want you to answer a question for me."

"Fair enough." The words barely got off her lips before he was telling her about the drug that they had made.

"It was called Solider X, hardly original if you ask me but it was supposed to create the perfect solider in their eyes. There are three different injections and I believe they gave them all to you at the same time. The first one targets a certain part of your brain and it helps them feed you information. The second injection is supposed to help the healing process. That's why I didn't have to bandage your wrists. They started to heal as soon as I got you out of them. It wasn't instantly like you used to see in the movies but they healed before you had first woken up." He told her, his tongue swiping out to wet his lips.

"Then what about…" She trailed off thinking about her wounds on her back. She saw his hand twitch to reach out for hers but she gave him a wary look, and it went back by his side.

"I'm not sure. I think you have to annually get re-injected and because they kept cutting into your wounds the serum couldn't heal them. You also lost so much blood there is a chance that there's hardly any of it in your system." He told his brows furrowing which told her he wasn't an expert on this serum. In her head all she can see is the reflection she had looked at so many times. Her back had a white line curving away from her spine and then down over her side to her hipbone. Her stitches had also disappeared which had let her know that Sebastian had used dissolvable ones.

"So they won't ever go away?" She mumbled under her breath raising her eyes back towards his.

"Unlikely." He shrugged and she gave him a feeble nod to tell him he could continue. "Anyways the third injection is apparently the cure for the undead. It can't bring people back to life but it's supposed to counteract the effects of the bite or scratch."

"That's why they were going to throw me in the pit…to see if it worked." Santana mumbled looking away and then back up to him.

"Bingo." He mused with a nonchalant shrug. "Honestly I think that it's a load of bullshit and you probably would have just become a walking corpse the moment—"

"And you knew that they were going to do that because it was going to be a show for everyone to watch."

His brows furrowed in confusion. "How the fuck did you know that?"

"Well you said my wounds healed, right? So that means that injection worked on me. I think they told me about the pit when I was…under the influence of the drug. I had this hallucination—" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, pulling her knees to her chest. "They must have been giving me information in hopes it would scare me into telling them about the rebels, so it wouldn't happen to them. Either way that serum works as well."

"Santana…" Sebastian swallowed as if he was guilty. "I'm sor—"

"Don't apologize there was nothing you could do." She told him as she released her legs from her own grasp. Leaning forward she took reached out for his hands and looked into those green eyes that tended to make her insides bundle in nerves.

"What?" He questioned arching his left eyebrow.

"Thank you," She said in a matter of fact tone. "for getting me out of there."

His fingers clenched around hers a little tighter and he scooted forward just a tad causing their knees to bump. His eyes started to fill with elation so quickly Santana thought she had imagined the guilt circling in them. His lets go of one of her hands and reached up to swipe her hair out of her face.

"You're the strongest person I've ever met." He breathed and her heart fumbles in her chest. Their noses are just barely touching each other and she's trying to figure out why she isn't pulling away. She didn't feel for him in the way that she had felt about Brittany—or really Puck because that was who she had spent so many years loving. Brittany had died so early sometimes what they had felt just like a bittersweet dream she had conjured up in her chest. Her heart had been pieced back together by Puck and they had been together, just the two of them for at least four years she didn't feel like her heart could have room for anyone else.

When he had died she thought her heart had gone with him.

Then why did she feel so, so alive right now?

"I'm not sleeping with you." She cleared her throat but he just smirked at her, his eyes twinkling with delight.

"Bullshit." He exclaimed, his hand coming up to touch her cheek. "If you want it can just be a one time thing?" He offered, inching his face a little closer.

"It doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you." She whispered, surprising herself, and that was all it took for his lips to be on hers.

His hands wrapped around her hips pulling her body up onto his torso as he stood up. Santana found her hands tightening in his long hair, her nails scratching against his scalp. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist as he blindly walked through the house. Their tongues were battling each other for an equally matched battle of dominance, constantly tying themselves together and untying themselves. She explored every cavern of his mouth and he did the same with her.

His shirt came off when they first climbed up the stairs and then hers came when they reached the top. But other than that their lips were fused together, a fire growing between their two bodies. When her back hit his bed his lips traced down the angle on her throat, nipping at her pulse point, until he kept moving down towards her collarbone. His fingers gently traced over her scars and he mumbled the word _beautiful_ against her flesh.

Her nails scratched down his back before she reached for his face to press their swollen lips together just before he started to unclasp her bra. She also flipped their positions her fingers running over the hard muscles of his chest. That was when she noticed his tattoo, which consisted of black lines curling into some sort of knot looking image. Her fingers ghosted over the patter and she made a mental note to ask him what it stood for some time.

She dipped her head towards his skin and began to kiss down his neck and down towards his collarbone where she had sank her teeth into his skin.

For the rest of the night they took explored each other's bodies with their fingers and lips.

It felt a little like paradise.

* * *

Considering everything that had happened in the past few days she was surprised to say the least when she woke up in an empty bed. No they weren't some sort of item and happily in love but rather just sleeping with each other to fulfill their sexual needs. However it wasn't hateful but just a physical sort of relationship. Santana held the sheet around her as she sat up and looked around. Her wavy hair fell around her shoulders and her nose wrinkled at the smell of something burning.

Getting out of bed she was just about to open the door when Sebastian tumbled through it. There was an exasperated look on his face and he had his backpack hanging from his shoulders.

"We've got to go. We should have never stayed this long." He told her while tossing her clothes at her.

"What are you even talking about?" She questioned while shaking herself into her jeans and shirt after she had slipped on her underwear and bra.

"The militia is here, we've got at least five minutes to get the fuck out of here or we'll be trapped in the fire." Sebastian told her, extending out an arm for her to take.

"The fire!?" Her eyes widened as she grabbed her knives off of the bedside dresser. Quickly she had buckled it around her waist and grabbed his hand. He was guiding her towards the window at the end of the hall. He shoved the curtains out of the way and kicked out the glass, watching it fall to the ground.

"We're gonna have to jump." He said tossing his backpack out. "There's a ledge for another window we can climb to but it's still a few feet above the ground."

"Asshole." She muttered before taking a step towards the window and swinging her legs over the ledge. Face to face with Sebastian waiting for him to go and she would follow suit.

She wanted to slap him when he leaned in and gave her passionate kiss. Her hands gripped his shirt at first, leaning into the kiss, before she pushed him back.

"I thought we were in a hurry." She muttered breathlessly but Sebastian wasn't in front of her anymore. Instead he used the gutter to climb down to the next ledge. She followed his movements shortly after they were both standing on the edge. A lump started to form in her throat and all she could smell was the fire that was engulfing the house they were dangling from.

She snuck a glance at Sebastian who gave her a small smile before jumping down. He did it so gracefully rolling to his feet almost as soon as he reached the ground. It wasn't anything complicated and she wasn't scared. Taking one last look around her she took a deep breath. She was just about to jump when she saw the jet black flag with a snake in the bottom right hand corner.

So that's how Sebastian knew they were here.

The Latina froze almost instantly. All she could think about was that the militia would know that they were here and since the fire was recent, they would know that they were close.

There was a possibility that they would capture her again.

She could only imagine the deadly look of victory on Randall's face if he were to find her. His eyes would be pulsing with a poisonous smirk as well as his lips. His arms would probably be extended out as if he was beckoning her into his arms, while he chuckled on the syllables of her name. She would be poised with her knives ready to fight need be. She would have told Sebastian to run and he probably wouldn't have because he was that much of a stubborn bastard. Then other members would have him shackled and Randall would negotiate his freedom for her imprisonment. And she would do it because she wasn't going to have another person die because of her.

And when she reached him he would probably dig his fingers into her hair and drag her all the way back to her cell.

Or worse, the pit so they could actually find out if their drug worked. The thought itself made her shiver.

Her fingers ran over her knives and she reminded herself that she wasn't weak.

_You're the strongest person I've ever met_.

Opening her eyes she looked down to remind herself that she wasn't alone like she had been in that cell. She still had this annoying bastard for company.

"Santana!" Sebastian yelled up to her. "Just jump I'll catch you." His arms were already outspread ready for her to fill them. She wanted to roll her eyes; of course he thought that she was scared.

_Typical_.

She winded up jumping next to him, landing almost like a cat. "I'm not a damsel." Santana told him with a smirk and Sebastian just shook his head. "Let's go."

* * *

You would think that she would be used to being on the run. After all it was what she had been doing for the past six years. But this time it was different. She wasn't running from the undead that she could easily kill.

She was running from the people who would kill to be the ones to kill her.

It had been approximately fourteen nights since they had burned down the farmhouse and she hadn't slept during any of them. It didn't matter that she was wrapped up in Sebastian's arms under their one blanket every night. Honestly it was a little more comfortable now then their first excursion together considering they were on the outskirts of some city; which meant they could take shelter in abandoned buildings instead of the ground. She didn't know what state she was in considering most of the signs had faded and she didn't go looking for them.

But none of it brought her any comfort because every time she closed her eyes all she could see was Randall. And all the different ways he could get her back into his possession.

The bags under her eyes were clearly going to be a permanent thing because not even Sebastian's presence could soothe her.

Tonight they had taken place in another random building that was some sort of office considering that behind the front desk there was a whole room of cubicles. They had taken one that was closest to an exit that wasn't the one they entered in. Sebastian was asleep next to her and her head was poised against his chest.

She wasn't listening to the thump of his heart instead she was listening to their surroundings. She was waiting to hear any noise except for the sound of the wind howling, so her fears of them not being alone would be confirmed.

Paranoia surged through her and she could feel her own heartbeat speed up. Her hands that were crossed around her stomach pushed Sebastian back a little so he was lying on his back instead of his side. He tossed in his sleep angling himself so his back was to her. His shirt was ridden up and that was when she saw it.

His gun.

Shuffling backwards she moved against the other side of the cubicle, pressing her back against it. She hated guns and for what she felt was good reason too. There was a reason she used knives and it was all her abuela's fault because she had been so adamant of not living through the apocalypse. Memories started to unleash themselves into her head and she made the mistake of closing her eyes. Instantly a dozen of them started to play out in front of her and she began to shake.

First it was her abuela's death all over again except this time she didn't wake up after the gunshot. She was curled over the fragile corpse crying out in agony, ashamed for what she had done. Three words, I love you, tumbled off her lips over and over again. She wasn't even aware that she was saying them out loud, so it was causing Sebastian to stir among his slumber. Just like she was crying in the memory she was crying now, tears poured down her face as she rocked back and forth. It felt like she was back at the scene of the crime. She could almost smell the scent of cigars and blood tingling underneath her nose.

Then it was the time when Quinn had gotten shot in her leg when they had attempted to escape a nearby campout in which they stole supplies from the six families that had been working together. It had been dark outside the only thing lighting their path was the full moon above. Angry voices were shouting all over the place and Puck was by her side running and two blondes behind her.

She heard the gunshot and then the scream that followed shortly after. Santana had skidded to a stop and turned around to find that her best friend had collapsed to the ground with a bullet in her leg. She had tried so desperately to get them to come with her but Quinn had refused being in too much pain. Sam had decided to stay back with her. The not knowing how they died always seemed to eat at her because she could have saved them. She could have demanded that they keep moving forward just a little more so they all could have been alive. When Puck pulled her away and they started running there was a mixture of screams and gunshots stuck in her head for the rest of the night.

Just like her hallucinations the scene switched as she blinked and she was running again but this time it was through militia grounds. She could hear Puck's footsteps behind her but every time a gunshot sounded she stumbled, tripping over her own feet. Puck's voice was shouting at her but all she could hear were the bullets cutting the air. She thought she even felt one in her arm—

"San, Santana, wake up." Sebastian's voice and touch brought her out of her head and back down into reality. He had tossed back his lighter to illuminate their faces. She looks down in his other hand and sees the gun.

She recoiled from him even more only looking at the weapon in his hand. She didn't even have to verbally tell him to put it away because he put it out of sight. The idea of breathing was still incredibly hard for her at that point.

"Why are you so scared of this?" He asked, reaching up to tuck her long hair behind her ear. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, swallowing the bile in her throat. "Talk to me, San. I've opened up to you."

"Just because you've told me things doesn't mean I have to tell you the shit that's happened to me." She snapped her eyes glaring into his. His fingers left her face and he sat back down. A scowl twisted onto his lips and he flicked the lighter shut.

"Fine." Then he turned away from her and went back to sleep.

Or well, he pretended to do so because she spoke up about a half hour later.

"I shot my abuela in the head when the outbreak happened." Her voice is cold, distant. Her eyes are even trained on the ground and she hasn't so much as moved from her space against the cubicle's wall.

Sebastian just stayed silent, still pretending to sleep but his eyes were barely open.

"I had gone to live with her because my parents got infected. They were on vacation and when they were supposed to come back they didn't. A few weeks later everyone got the news that the apocalypse was upon us, so I assumed that's what happened. Everything was freaking the fuck out and I went over to my abuela's. I stayed with her for two nights." Santana took a deep breath closing her eyes. "During those two nights she had been in contact with Puck who was gathering supplies. The morning after the second night I walked in the living room to find her holding a gun. She asked me to kill her…"

Sebastian sat up at this point using his fingers to rub his eyes as he fought off his exhaustion. He wasn't anywhere in her reach and she was glad. She didn't want to be touched right now. She kept her legs pulled close but her hands were around her stomach. Her right hand slipped underneath her shirt, tracing the scar on her hip. She could feel every edge of the little separate ones that came together to create just the big one. They were all tiny ragged scars climbing up her back to create one giant one.

It was one giant wound that didn't even come close to the amount of pain she had.

Santana trailed off taking a deep breath. At this point her voice sounded utterly hollow and her eyes almost looked dead. "So I did."

Her eyes were zoned in on the ground as she aimlessly started at it. Sebastian had moved so he could take her against his chest and pressed a kiss to her hair. His lips were just over the shell of her ear, saying soothing words over and over again as his hands ran down her arm. Her hands were wrapped around his torso, her fingers drawing lazy patterns. It was utterly quiet and even though she was physically with Sebastian, she was wrapped up in her own thoughts.

She couldn't help but realize that for the last few years of her life she had been running from monsters. And when said monsters blood was on her hands, she always thought they were dead and that the threat was eliminated. They were to never bother her again. She could collect her knives and keep moving forward. But it was like they stayed with her, in the back of her mind, embedded in the blackest part of her heart.

She wasn't just running from the zombies and the militia, she was running from her demons as well.

* * *

He had brought her to some sort of deserted town just a day after she had told them about her abuela in their cubicle.

"We're here." He mumbled and she looked up at him with this incredulous look on her face.

"Are you blind?" She waved her hand in front of his face as she pivoted in front of him. "This place is empty!"

"Never judge a book by its cover." He smirked and at she was seriously under the impression that he was talking nonsense.

She followed him anyways because if there was one thing that she had learned it was that she had nothing else to lose.

Reaching her fingers into her hair she pulled it up off her shoulders and began to twist it, as they walked through the middle of some street stores on either side of them. Easily she circled the strands around each other, before tucking the end underneath one of the spirals. It was getting too hot in her worn out jeans that were scuffed up and her shirt that she had ripped into a makeshift tank-top. There was this huge grin on Sebastian's face when they reached a place that looked like it used to be a convenient store, as if he had won the lottery.

She raised her eyebrows because she wasn't exactly seeing how shattered windows, broken doors, and empty shelves were the lottery. His fingers ran over the window pane and her eyes widened when she saw the same symbol he had on his chest, carved into it.

"Why are we here?" She complained. He didn't reply instead grabbed her hand and walked behind the cash register. His fingers pressed the underside of the cabinet and then small screen on the cash register blinked the word password. He pressed a few buttons and then the drawer popped open revealing that it held a key. Swiftly he took it and walked through what she presumed to be the break room door behind then. Inside there was seriously nothing but a round table and a broken fridge. She was just about to complain when he let go of her hand and moved the fridge out of the way to reveal a door. Using the key he unlocked it and pushed it open.

She stood behind him her mouth gaping open.

"Well don't just stand there like an idiot, come on." He reached for her hand and moved the fridge back before closing the door.

The first thing she heard was voices and after they made it to the end of a short dimly lit tunnel she couldn't believe what she was seeing. There was a whole crowd of people standing in the middle of a busy street, with buildings that outstretched for miles. It looked like what she had just been walking through…except it was lively. Nothing was vacant…the sun shined and the wind blew. Hesitantly she walked forward her hands ready to pull out a knife if she needed.

"Sebastian is that you!?" A woman with light gray haired called, looking over the lenses of her glasses. She was also dressed in this purple floral dress that hugged her body making her look incredibly sweet. Santana knew that it was nothing that her grandmother would have worn. Ever. And just like that he was brushed up in chatter and she was forgotten in the doorway. Her eyes traveled around looking at people who looked healthy. They were all so…clean.

Their clothes didn't' have one speck of dirt on them, let alone holes. Their hair shined and bounced as if they had just walked out of a hair salon, which they probably had.

It was like she was looking at whole undercover town.

"And this is Santana." She heard Sebastian call out. The old woman who had called out her name earlier finally gave her a once over. She shifted on her feet uncomfortable. Her clothes were probably in the worst shape not to mention her knives were on full display. The woman's brittle hand was extended out to her, a black knot inked on her wrist.

Santana raised her brow, what the hell was going on?

"Hello dear!" The woman chimed, brushing away Santana's thoughts for the time being. "I'm Glenda. It's a pleasure to meet you." Taking her hand Santana nodded and offered a small smile. She was far too distracted by everything around her to say anything.

After a moment of shaking the woman's hand she shook her head. "It's a pleasure. Now can someone tell me what the fu—what is going on?" She cleared her throat and turned her eyes to see Sebastian chuckling under her breath.

"Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?" Glenda sang in a sugary sweet voice, leading her away from Sebastian.

What had he just gotten her into?

* * *

She had figured out that this was some sort of town and she also found out that she was back in Ohio. Or at least somewhere near it because she had found multiple sport flags with teams her father had adored. There was no one that she knew here, aside from Sebastian of course, but they had all been creepily welcoming. Glenda had taken her down a couple streets until they reached a string of houses. It was like someone had taken what she had just seen above ground and just moved it underneath the Earth's landscape.

It turned out that the house she had been escorted to, was where Sebastian used to live. She had figured that out because there were pictures of him on the wall. It was the first time that she had seen his brother. Vance. The blonde boy had been just a few inches shorter than him and in every picture there was always some substance on his face.

He really had liked tinkering with things it seemed. A part of her had always been skeptical of Sebastian's stories that he had told her and it gave her peace of mind that he hadn't been lying.

She was able to take a shower when she arrived and Glenda brought her fresh clothes. At first Santana thought that they were going to be something horrific since most of the female population down here wore incredibly girly dresses. But the elderly woman brought her a black camisole and a pair of jean shorts that were ripped at the hemline.

When she was finally alone with Sebastian he had told her that they would look better if he got to take them off.

Now however Sebastian had already left, having plans with some guy named Adrian that Santana hadn't met yet. It seemed everyone here knew him. Every time he had walked into a room with her everyone gave him lingering stares. Some people even looked at him with such pride and a burning intensity of hope. Everyone was so kind to him and honestly it made her want to vomit.

Apparently they had never met the side of him that she had to put up with for months before she found it the least bit attractive. Sometimes she even wondered what she saw in him in the first place. They weren't all that affectionate with each other, as they were crude and sexual toward one another. Of course they had their moments where it seemed like their genuinely cared for each other but recently it was as if they were just tolerating each other again.

Especially nowadays because every time he got home he would just kiss her until they were both naked underneath the sheets of his bed.

She felt utterly stupid to think that she actually meant something to him.

Their neighbor, Shelby, who was insanely skinny, had a close to perfect complexion for her pale skin, eyes as blue as the ocean, and hair that might as well had rays of sunshine it, invited Santana for lunch. She was a bit skeptical considering she wasn't fond of the idea of making friends but winded up going anyways.

Santana told herself that going had nothing to do with the fact that Sebastian had skipped out to come back before "bed time" and share a meal with her.

Walking across the space between their houses, Santana's fingers fiddled with the loose string on her shorts. She walked up on the quaint little porch and knocked on the door. Her insides were already vomiting.

"Santana!" The girl called out, pulling her in for a quick hug. "You made it!" The perky girl stepped out of the way, letting her come inside. Pictures were hanging on every wall and there were two green couches shoved up against the wall, a table that looked almost identical to the one in the farmhouse sitting in the middle of the room. There was a fireplace to her left and a couple other rocking chairs with lamps beside them.

It seriously reminded her of the farmhouse and it made her shift on her heels.

Shelby guided her over to a couch before bouncing in the kitchen. Santana just gaped and almost choked when her hostess poured her a cup of tea in a plain white teacup, with blue painted flowers at the top.

It was a matching set to the ones that had burned in the farmhouse. She would have recognized it anywhere.

"I forgot the sugar! Silly me!" She giggled before retreating back to the kitchen. The Latina watched her curiously as the skirts of her dressed bounced with her every step. Her golden hair had flown out of the way for just a moment and that's when she saw the tattoo Sebastian had on his chest.

Her eyebrows pulled together and she flickered her gaze to the pictures on the walls. There was another girl with auburn hair clad in a peach colored strapless dress next to Shelby in one. They were on the beach, hands thrown in the air, the sun setting behind them. But Santana didn't really care about any of that. Instead her eyes focused in on the black ink on the girl's wrist.

"What is with this tattoo? Does everybody have it here?" She didn't hesitate to ask. The moment she was done the sound of glass shattering filled her ears. Getting off the sofa she walked over to the kitchen entrance.

"I'm not—I can't tell you." She choked and Santana rolled her eyes. Bending down she reached inside her combat boots and drew out her dagger.

"I would really hate to use this." Santana mused in a menacing tone. Shelby didn't recoil though; instead she grabbed a knife she had been using to chop up vegetables off the counter.

"I wouldn't bother using that. We're all trained here." Suddenly the perkiness that had clouded Shelby's voice before had faded.

"What is this place?"

"Somewhere you're not supposed to be."

"Cut it with the bullshit. I can have blood spilling out of your neck in the next five minutes." Santana said sharply. "Tell me what the fuck this place is and I will walk out of here. And by here I seriously mean this town because I could give two flying fucks about it anyways."

"The tattoo is a symbol for rebellion."

And in that moment every single one of Randall's questions that she couldn't answer became answered in the blink of an eye. They had thought that this whole time that Puck and her were a part of this group. But really it had been someone else…someone who had been under their noses this whole time.

Sebastian Smythe.

* * *

She doesn't really remember how she got back above ground. All she can remember is running and running and running. People had called after her, asking her where she was going. Others made the comment that she was out of her mind since her destination seemed very clear. None of it made her stop; honestly just hearing them made her sprint even faster. Every one of her muscles was screaming in pain and she could hardly breathe but she didn't stop.

She couldn't stop.

All she could do was get the fuck out of that town. Get out of the rebellion that she didn't want to have any part in.

The night's air was cool against her skin and her hair had fallen out of the makeshift bun she had put it in. The wind ran through every strand and it brought goosebumps to every inch of her skin. The moon was shining above her in all its glory painting her an escape route and it was comforting.

It seemed that she had another thing to run from on top of the zombies, the militia, and her own inner demons.

Now she was running from Sebastian too.

"Santana!" Speak of the fucking devil.

Instantly she tried to pick up her pace hoping that there was some sort of place she could hide up ahead. She closed her eyes and kept shoving her legs and arms forward even if in the back of her mind she knew that he was faster than her. Tears pooled in her eyes and she reached up to wipe them away. She wouldn't cry because she would not be heartbroken over someone like him. Her heart drummed against her ribcages and she could feel the anger rising within her. And it was all directed at him because he had _lied_ to her.

It made so much sense why he did too because she could never forgive him.

"Santana…San. Stop fucking running from me! " His voice was closer this time and she turned as the road did. The frustration she had been so used to hearing was lingering in her voice but she wouldn't give in.

She didn't dare look back at him, instead straight ahead in the distance as if there was some sort of light blinking at her in the darkness. She felt as though with every step she took towards it, it faded out. Something caught around her ankle and she crashed to the ground. Concrete scraped at her knees as she rolled a few more feet down the street.

Of course Sebastian was at her side his hand at her shoulder while he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Get your hands off of me." She growled instantly and shook his hand off. Her hand grabbed one of her knives just before she lunged and tackled him to the ground. She pressed the blade against his neck and used her other hand to press him to the ground. Adrenaline pumped through her veins along with the anger. She was way stronger than what she had been the first time she had attempted this.

This time he would stay underneath her.

"San..." He fumbled and she just dug the blade against his skin.

"It should have been you." Santana growled. "You should have been the one locked up in that cell. You should have been the one bleeding to death but never quite getting to the point where your heart stopped. _You_ were the one they were looking for." Her eyes were devoured by anger. Her fingers had curled into his shoulder and she was digging her nails into his skin.

When he winced she smirked in delight.

When his lips parted she shook her head. "If you make just one sound I will cut out your throat."

He stayed utterly still underneath the death grip she had on him. More pieces of the puzzle clicked in her head as she looked at him.

"Your brother." She swallowed. "He helped build that place didn't he and the farmhouse…was that some sort of base for you guys when you weren't underground. Wasn't it?" She questioned her voice lined in disgust. When Sebastian didn't answer at all she dug the blade deep, blood prickling from his skin.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Wasn't it!?" She screamed and he nodded his head.

"Just let me explain." He said and she made one little cut in the side of his neck. A small wince sounded from his mouth and it made her smile sadistically. She closed her eyes and thought about when he told her about the drug. Hardly any of it made sense. She had already guessed that Vance and Sebastian had purposefully been found by the militia, trying to gather information. But how did he find out about the drug? He had told her that Vance helped power the machine but why would he know that if he was off training…

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't noticed her grip on him slacked and he had kicked her off of him. She flew backwards her back connecting with the asphalt. A groan left her mouth and pain spread throughout her insides.

That's when she heard the crackling and the heavy footsteps. Looking over Sebastian's shoulder she saw the faint trace of a trudging corpse just across the road. Violently pushing her leg up, she kneed him in his groin and pushed him off of her. Then she placed her hands by her head and launched herself up onto her feet. Both of her hands held her knives and she threw them. This time there was only three and they were fairly spread apart. Her eyes were wild as she ran forward and kicked one of the corpses into the grass. Removing the knife that was lodged in its shoulder, she plunged it into the creature's head slicing it across. It took her a moment but she managed to have it done in a couple minutes.

Behind her she could hear Sebastian grunting as he probably killed the one he was battling. She was still standing over the one she just killed for good when she felt something pinch her side. A hot pain sizzled in her right hip and she pushed her arm back to collide with rotten flesh, knocking it a few feet back. Then her hand pressed into her hip and she was unaware of the blood oozing over her fingers. Turning around she stood face to face with a rotting corpse and honestly it looked no different than the all the other ones she had killed. Her eyes looked at it in disgust until she reached the corpses eyes.

They were pale blue with golden flecks that might as well been sunshine.

"Brittany." She breathed under her breath watching as the crimson tongue swiped across peeling lips. The dagger in her hand felt heavy and a million memories flashed across her mind. Guilt seeped into her veins because it was her fault that Brittany had been walking with a craving of hunger that could only be filled with human flesh. But how could this be Brittany?

Her eyes had to be playing tricks on her.

Looking down she saw her fingers covered in a familiar shade of crimson. She heard her name being yelled at her along with the command to do something but she could barely hear it. Everything was so distant. Half her head was in the past and then half her head was staring at the blue eyes of the corpse. And just like when she had first found Brittany's body she couldn't find the strength to kill it. Her heart could not bear anymore burdens. The zombie was just about to take a step forward when a gunshot sounded. It collapsed to the ground its eyes finally wearing that empty expression.

A single tear fell from her eyes and she couldn't look away. She felt as if her heart stopped in her chest and she also felt like she could throw up all of her insides. Everything was in slow motion until Sebastian collided into her and wrapped his arms tightly around her. Immediately she squirmed in his arms trying her best to escape.

It was futile though because his grip had to be even tighter than the one she had on him.

"Let go of me!" She pushed on his chest but it just made him hold onto her tighter. She would have gone for her knives but she could barely move her arms from between their bodies. Instead she just kept grunting as she moved. A lightheaded feeling clouded her senses after a few minutes and she slacked in his arms, which caused his grip to loosen. It was only then as she tried to gain her breath did she finally hear the words he had been whispering over and over again into her hair.

"I thought I'd lost you."

* * *

He didn't take her back underground. She didn't know that it wasn't because she had demanded it but rather because he was scared she would kill everyone there.

Instead he had taken her to an abandoned motel. All the keys were still aimlessly hanging up behind the front counter, so he had just grabbed the first one and went directly to that specific room. It was seriously nothing fancy but she much preferred to lie down on a lumpy mattress than the ground. Or be in the confines of the group of rebels whose sole existence caused her to have scars all over her back.

When Sebastian tried to get under the covers next to her she pushed him off the bed. With a heavy look she pursed her lips. "Go find another room." She settled for him sitting on the side of her bed while she slept. Or well, she attempted to. She couldn't stop trying to jam the puzzle pieces together in her head as to why he saved her. Especially when her dying would completely left the target off her back because it would have died with her.

It was just before sunrise when she sat up in the bed. The movement caused everything to shake for a moment and she swore that everything in the room duplicated for a few seconds. Placing her palm to her forehead she took a deep breath. The bed shifted underneath her and she knew that Sebastian had contemplated moving towards her. She felt relief flush through her when he didn't follow through with his impulse.

"Why did you do it?" She asked him and although exhaustion laced her voice, you could still feel the resentment she held for him. Her head was throbbing and her stomach tightened in a cramp, her wound seemed to be stinging even more than they had before.

"It had been my idea to join the rebels." Sebastian told her and she wondered if she could even believe this. He had already told her so many lies before. "What I had told you before wasn't a lie…I just left out a few details. I volunteered us to rehabilitate the house and try to get into the militia's rank. It was so we could gather information because there had been rumors about them making a cure. We knew it wasn't something to write off because Glenda's husband was the one who invented a cure. Before the outbreak he had been a doctor, he worked to make cures for pandemics." Santana took a deep breath and gritted her teeth. Her hands were by her sides with a fistful of sheets between her fingers.

"Go on." She spoke through gritted teeth.

"Vance was only supposed to help me with the house. He wasn't supposed to get taken too. It was my fault he died and when I heard that they were going to try the drug on you, I thought…" He trailed off and she eyed him curiously. "I thought that if I could bring you back they would be able to take your blood and remake the serum themselves. I didn't want Vance to have died for nothing and I didn't want someone else to die because of me."

His green eyes latched onto her brown ones that were filled with horror. "So you used me? All of this was just some plan to use me as a lab rat again except that I was supposed to be okay with it because it was for the 'good' guys." Her fingers released sheets only to grab some more a moment after her.

"That's not what I said." He told her sternly.

"That's exactly what you said!" She shouted at him. "I guess the joke's on me right. I'm sure your ecstatic because you even got some action the way too, since I'm sure your dick was getting tired of your hand."

"You're wrong." He spat and the clenched his jaw. "I love—"

"Don't even bother." She interrupted him and looked away so he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes. Furiously she shook her head. "I'm sick of your pathetic lies."

"San—" He tried but she put her hand up.

"Get out of this room." She said as she fluffed up the blankets and sunk down onto her side, so her back was facing him. She held back the wince since she was lying on her wound. When the mattress raised as he got up, she blew out a deep breath unable to stop the tears from running down her cheeks.

It took a few hours but sleep did come.

* * *

When she woke up it was somehow still dark outside and her head was pounding. The room around her started to spin when she sat up in the bed. When she drew the covers back she noticed that the white sheets had been stained with ichor that had spilled from her wound when she had been asleep.

Quietly she moved from the middle of the bed to the edge hanging her legs over the side. She took her silver dagger in her hand before trying to stand up. The moment her feet hit the ground she swayed to the side. Pressing her free hand to her hand, she could feel the sweat on her forehead. Taking a small step forward she placed her arm over her chest and the hand that held her dagger against the wall. The ground was uneven between her feet and with every inch she gained in attempt to reach the door made her breaths grow shallow. It was like someone was sucking out her energy.

Reaching out for the door handle she pulled it down, wincing in pain. Her hand slid a couple times making it harder to open but somehow she managed to do it. In the distance she could hear something ripping. Hobbling down the hall she did her best to keep herself up right. The hallway seemed endless, with every step she took it got longer. She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Sweat was shining on her face now and her face was losing its color.

What was happening?

She smelled the rotten flesh and heard the small moan before she saw it.

The creature of the undead was the first thing she saw when she rounded the corner and looked into the lobby. Her fingers tightened on her dagger that was slipping out of her grasp. She stayed incredibly still when it turned around and started to move towards her. Her breaths started to increase as she heard it draw close to her.

"Santana?" A shiver ran down her spine, when did they learn to talk? "I can hear you breathing." Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest and the moment she saw a flash of the gray flesh, she pivoted and dug the knife into the side of its body. There was a yelp of pain and she kicked it back. The motion made her head lull and once again everything in the room doubled. It took a moment for it all to settle back in place. Lunging herself forward she grabbed her knife and knocked the zombie to the ground.

Its nails dug into her side and she held back a scream. "I'm immune." Her voice sounded delirious as she raised both her hands with the dagger between her palms. "You can't kill me. You can't hu—" She chanted but was flipped over by the rotting corpse. She squeezed her eyes shut and she coughed when her body slammed into the wooden floor.

Black ichor bled from her mouth and her hands were repeatedly banged into the ground until she dropped her knife.

"Santana it's me. It's Sebastian." A voice called over her and her head shook. Her mind was playing tricks on her. This was not Sebastian. It was a zombie. She had to kill it, that's what she always did with the undead. The grip on her wrists tightened and her body started to shake. Tears ran bled from her eyes and she felt a one of the hands holding her wrist together, slid down and lift up her shirt.

"No…" Sebastian croaked above her. Santana thrashed, terrified for her life. She was still coughing on what felt like her own blood and her skin was fire to the touch. When she felt something touch her wound, where she had been cut she screamed out in agony. It was like she had been injected with Solider X again. Her cells were covered in gasoline and someone, in this case Sebastian, had just thrown a lighter on it.

"You've been scratched." Were the last words she heard before she blacked out.

* * *

She doesn't remember much but she wakes up in the same spot every single time; it's a bathtub filled to the brim with water. She doesn't know that she has these fits… in which she sloshes the water around as she shakes. Every time she coughs up her own blood and probably some of her lasts breaths as well. She's still got her clothes on because whoever put here there apparently wasn't smart enough to take them off. The water isn't really hot but it's not cold either.

"It's supposed to bring the fever down." A voice whispered to who she guessed was someone else. Her eyes were closed but she could still hear everything. Her body was completely still in the water and she wished that she was frozen in a block of ice because maybe that would do the trick to stop her insides from burning.

Considering it hasn't faded though, she doubts that it would soothe her.

It takes a lot of strength she has to dig deep to find, so she can open her eyes. The first thing she sees is her reflection in the water. Her skin was drained of all its color and her lips were covered in a black substance she didn't recognize. She wanted to reach up and wipe it away or even dunk underwater but she was paralyzed. Every movement felt like a knife was digging into her back.

"Santana? Are you awake?" She turned her eyes up to find Sebastian sitting on the floor just outside the tub. Anger bubbles through her but it's insignificant to the pain. She tried to mumble back a yes but when her lips part there's only breath on her lips. Instead she just dimly arched her brow as if to ask what was going on.

Sebastian reached forward and ghosted his fingers over her lips. Her eyes flutter shut at the gesture, the look of sadness on her face swirling behind her eyelids. "Your body is rejecting the bite."

"The…drug?" She squeaks but it hardly even sounds like words.

"They tested your blood. There's not enough in your system to ward off the transformation. We don't know why… You should already be one of…" He can't even finish his sentence but she knows that he's never really been able to say the word zombies.

She's watching him closely wishing that she could bring her fingers out of the water so she could touch his fingers. She wants to tell him that even though he's the most inglorious bastard she's ever met, somehow he managed to bring her heart back when she thought it was gone.

She wants to tell him that for a while he gave her a paradise she never thought she'd find but she doesn't have enough strength to do it.

His sparkling green eyes are full of anguish but it has this aching hope that is almost invisible. But she spent so much time with him that it didn't do unnoticed by her. Her heart flutters in her chest and his lips are parting to say his name when a slither of pain grabs ahold of her spine. She starts to convulse in the water and she's hacking up the blood right in front of him. Her hands reach up and grab the side of the tub her knuckles turning white as she tried to control herself. But she can't control the spasm and every one of her muscles is burning in pain. Her eyes roll into the back of her head as the thick liquid pooled out of her lips.

She didn't slip into unconsciousness instead she willed herself to open her eyes. The first thing that she saw this time was the blade of her dagger. Turning her eyes towards Sebastian she looked at him solemnly.

"How…long?" She asked, wanting to know how long it'd been since she had gotten bit.

"Almost three weeks." He told her after a moment and that was when she let her eyes drop back to the dagger and then to his. He was already shaking his head, his teeth digging into his lip. "No, San. I won't do it." He leaned forward off the wall and too her hand that was on the side of the tub in his. He pressed his forehead to hers gently. When he closed his eyes she could feel his lashed sliding over her face.

She didn't know that in that moment he had realized that she was looking for paradise and he couldn't offer that anymore.

"I don't want to lose you." He whispered over her lips. The thumb of his free hand was wiping her lips clean.

"Seb…" She whispered unable to form his full name. "Please." Her eyes closed and her chest lifted in slow breaths.

"You're gonna get better." He told her nodding his head a bit. "You're going to be healthy and you'll get through this." She shakes her head at his words and opens her eyes to look at him. Her fingers barely squeeze his because she can't manage to do anything else.

She can't help but think that he's in the position that she was in when Puck died. "Was it a lie?" Santana swallowed, her lip quivering.

"What?" He asked.

"Did…did you…love me?" She managed to choke out after a few minutes. His wet hand reached up and cupped her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbones.

"It was the truth." He whispered his lips so achingly close to hers.

"Then please," She closed her eyes and moved over to the side of the tub. "Do this for me." She told him and he was shaking his head violently but she saw him reach for the dagger. Her stood up and gently leaned her forward as he got behind her in the tub. Their legs were tangled together and she trembled in his arms. She can feel his heart beating against her back and it soothes her aching self.

She didn't know that the dagger felt insanely heavy in his hands and that his heart was beating so fast in fear. She titled her head to look up at him and she could see the tears in his green eyes. She blinked and her own tears fell.

"I loved you too." She managed to get out all in one breath. "Do me one last…favor?" He nodded his head, his lips twisting together as she tried to keep himself put together.

"Anything, San. Anything." His fingers moved her wet hair from her face.

"Kiss me." And he leaned his head down and pressed his lips to hers. His lips were warm against her cold ones and he tasted like coffee. It made a tiny smile sprout on her lips. She thought that she was going to feel pain when she had reached up to feel his lips but instead she just felt content. It was like the burning had stopped. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she had finally found that serenity she had been searching for since this whole thing started.

And it consumed her whole being as the lights faded out and her body slumped away from Sebastian's lips.

* * *

**A/N**: If you've made it down this far I honestly congratulate you! And I also want to thank you for reading every single word. As I mentioned at the beginning I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please leave a review?


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